THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF AM INDIVIDUALIST 



BY JAMES O. FAGAN 




#*? 1 



Class 

Boole F< 

Copyright^. 



CDHfRIGHT DEPOSE 



38j> 3fameg <©. iFagan 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVID- 
UALIST. 

LABOR AND THE RAILROADS. 

CONFESSIONS OF A RAILROAD SIGNAL- 
MAN. Illustrated with photographs of typical 
wrecks. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

Boston and New York 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF AN 

INDIVIDUALIST 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF AN 

INDIVIDUALIST 

BY 
JAMES 0. FAGAN / 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

<@bz ftitoergi&e pre#$ Cambridge 
1912 



.1* 






t/n 



COPYRIGHT, 191 2, BY JAMES O. PAGAN 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published November IQ12 



©CI.A327964 ^ 



CONTENTS 



I. Beginnings in Scotland 1 

II. Life Problems in South America ... 32 

III. Travel and Adventures in Africa . . 63 

IV. Impressions of New England in the 

Eighties 96 

V. Men and Conditions on the Railroads . .128 

VI. The Individual in Modern Industry . . 164 

VII. A Study of Three Presidents .... 195 

VIII. The Riddle of the Railroads .... 220 

IX. Let Industry be Free 255 

Index 285 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN 
INDIVIDUALIST 

I 

BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 

In the United States to-day the individualist 
is beset with adversaries who are misrepresenting 
his mission and belittling his importance. Yet his 
vital relationship to the highest possibilities and 
to the noblest aspirations of the race is unmistak- 
able. The individual is the personal, that is to say, 
the principal, factor in progress of every descrip- 
tion. He is the parent of ideas, the originator of 
plans, the organizer and director of social and 
industrial enterprises. He dreams, and society 
wakes up and finds itself famous. True, society 
reacts on the individual, inspires multitudes of 
individuals to praiseworthy exertion and develop- 
ment, and thus the commonwealth flourishes. 

The individualist has a message for the present 
generation. While a large and influential section 
of public opinion at the present day is persistently 
emphasizing the central significance of the social 
stream and the comparative helplessness of the 
human bubbles adrift upon its surface, perhaps 



2 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the life-story of one who has other and very dif- 
ferent ideas of progressive civilization may, at 
least, be thought worthy of a patient hearing. 



Originally, the family stock of the writer came 
from the Island of Skye, one of those desolate 
rock-ribbed isles of the Inner Hebrides, where 
even to-day the greater portion of the Gaelic- 
speaking inhabitants are crofters, who support 
themselves on fish, and inhabit miserable huts 
with the fireplace in the middle of the floor. Con- 
tinually facing starvation and the fury of the ele- 
ments, progress with these people is almost out of 
the question, but when they are once driven by 
chance or compulsion to other and more propi- 
tious climes, the rigor of such primeval training 
stands the sturdy emigrant in good stead, and 
as a rule, he is able to give a very good account of 
himself. 

While this glance at heredity is by no means 
out of place, my story properly begins in far-away 
India. In the earliest days of the British East 
India Company, in the buccaneering and filibus- 
tering period, my progenitors emigrated from 
Scotland and found employment in the Com- 
pany's civil and military service. A number of 
them fell victims to the climate and the wars; 
later, one of my uncles was a physician of note in 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 3 

Calcutta; another was on the bench; while two 
or three of the present generation are out there 
to-day, engaged in commercial pursuits. 

My father was one of the battle-scarred sur- 
vivors of the Indian Mutiny. Until his death he 
was a pensioner of the East India Company or its 
successor, the British Government. Just in what 
year he returned to Scotland I am unable to de- 
termine. I have no available dates or records in 
regard to this period of my story; but this is of 
little consequence, as my purpose is neither sta- 
tistical nor genealogical. 

Be this as it may, I was born in the town of 
Inverness, Scotland, in the year 1859, and shortly 
after that date my father removed his establish- 
ment to a small estate, which he had inherited 
from a relative, in the neighboring county of Ross. 
At the time when I first began to get a glimpse of 
myself and my surroundings, the family consisted 
of twelve boys. Then my mother died and several 
of the older boys went out into the world, one into 
the army, one into the navy, and two into the 
Indian Civil Service. In this way, at the time I 
refer to, the home-colony in Ross-shire was re- 
duced to eight. But now, and very briefly, I must 
locate myself more definitely. 

My home, during my earliest schooldays, was 
quite close to the town of Fortrose, which is a 
royal and parliamentary borough in Scotland, in 



4 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the county of Ross. The little town is situated 
on the north side of the Moray Firth, just oppo- 
site Fort George. The neighborhood is particu- 
larly rich in romantic scenery, and the nature of 
my beginnings in this far-away corner of the 
world will not be understood in its proper signifi- 
cance without a brief glance at these surroundings. 

The very first information, historically speak- 
ing, that is imparted to a Highland youngster 
relates to Wallace and Bruce, and the long line of 
fighting Scotsmen in every country that followed 
in their train. To him every tartan — in fact, 
every clan, loch, stream, and mountain — has its 
fighting history. Every boy in the Highlands lives 
in the midst of these individualistic, combative, 
and romantic associations. On a clear day, from 
any elevation in the neighborhood of Fortrose, 
one can easily overlook the hills of Inverness-shire. 
The region appears to be densely wooded for the 
most part, and here, in the possession of enormous 
estates, live to-day the lordly descendants of the 
fighting clansmen, the Camerons of Lochiel, the 
Gordons of Cluny, the Frasers, the Mackintoshes, 
and the Chisholms. 

Just one other feature of the neighborhood 
remains to be noticed. A little to the east of Fort- 
rose is the village of Rosemarkie. At the back of 
the village, and running in and along great gullies, 
which I suppose have been washed out of the clay 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 5 

or sandstone hills by the torrents of centuries, 
is a succession of cliffs or precipices. For genera- 
tions these crags have been the playground, or 
rather the climbing area, of the Highland lads 
from surrounding villages. 

These features of the scenery are in the main, I 
think, correct, although I have not attempted to 
verify them in any way, and I have never re- 
visited the scenes. They are simply vivid impres- 
sions of my early surroundings, which I have car- 
ried along with me and cherished with life-long 
tenacity; and I am obliged to emphasize them a 
little, for the reason that, connected with this 
rugged scenery, there was later a tragic episode 
which proved to be the first great turning point in 
my life. 

The earliest period of my activity, then, in the 
home, the surroundings of which I have partially 
described, may be fairly entitled the wilderness 
stage. In regard to the names of my companions, 
my manner of living at home, or conducting my- 
self at school, say up to my tenth year, my mind is 
completely in the dark. The pranks and adven- 
tures of the period seem to have driven every- 
thing else into mental oblivion. I cannot even 
remember to what extent my brothers shared in 
these youthful escapades, which so exclusively 
dominate these earliest memories. I am convinced, 
however, that the adventures were almost invari- 



6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ably stolen sweets, unlawful proceedings in which 
truancy figured not a little, and an occasional run- 
ning away and hiding in the woods, — proceed- 
ings paid for, I doubt not in every instance, by the 
infliction of corporal punishment and incarcera- 
tion in the family lockup. 

While, of course, it is undesirable to relate 
any of these childhood adventures in detail, the 
individualism and self-assertion contained in this 
state of gypsy-like lawlessness must be noticed 
in passing. A single illustration will be sufficient 
to picture the situation. 

It has always been a mystery to me why I 
should so easily recall incidents relating to the 
dogs and horses, and my adventures in their com- 
pany. For instance, about dogs: there was 
Pinky, the Skye terrier, Rock, the Gordon setter, 
and Jack, the retriever. The latter was the delight 
and pride of every boy in the neighborhood. His 
cleverness in catching wounded rabbits, or in 
finding lost articles that belonged to any of the 
boys, was to our understanding almost super- 
natural. 

When I first remember him, Jack was growing 
old, and getting a little blind. One day we heard a 
rumor that his days were numbered and that the 
gamekeeper had received orders to put him 
quietly out of the way. So one morning, when 
we surprised this man preparing to take him out 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 7 

in a boat, we knew his time was come. How we 
pleaded — in vain, of course — for the life of that 
dog ! Then we surrounded and jostled and fairly 
mobbed the gamekeeper. In the end he was com- 
pelled to beat us back from the boat, and we sat 
in a row on the beach crying and biting our lips. 
The man rowed out a short distance from the 
shore, then shipped his oars. We saw our hero go 
overboard — first the dog, then the rope, and 
then the rock. We never forgave that man. 
From that time on he was continually in hot 
water with one or another of us. Before many 
days, in our own way, we paid him back. It was 
at a time when the whole village was off its guard, 
given up to jollification on Halloween. Two or 
three of us, little imps, barred the door of his cot- 
tage on the outside, climbed up on the roof, and 
dropped a large green sod down through the 
chimney right into the midst of the family circle. 
The thrashing we received for this escapade must 
have been part of the pleasure, for it never both- 
ered our memories. 

II 

If my recollection of my adventures is even 
partially reliable, it is impossible to imagine a 
more lawless and harum-scarum beginning to the 
career of any mortal. But, doubtless, during this 
early period there were already two sides to the 



8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

problem of my bringing-up, although at this dis- 
tance I find it difficult to reconcile the two parallel 
and contemporaneous lines. Nevertheless, I am 
well aware, from what I was able to learn after- 
wards, that even at the time that I was seemingly 
running wild in the earliest mad-cap stage, I was 
really being drilled and whipped into civilized 
form by other and sterner forces, and in due time 
the fruits of this training were abundantly in 
evidence. 

But, even at its best, the domestic situation in 
which I was placed is little understood by Ameri- 
cans of the present generation. A certain aloof- 
ness between parents and children in most well- 
regulated families in those days was considered 
necessary for purposes of decorum and discipline. 
In this way servants and relatives to a great ex- 
tent had charge of our family, although my father 
kept careful watch of the proceedings. There were 
morning and evening prayers, grace was said 
before and after each meal, although our parents 
never sat at the same table with the small boys, 
and there was the strictest observance of the 
Sabbath. 

Whatever may have been his desires on the 
subject, my father certainly found it impossible 
to attend to us all personally while we were in the 
barefoot, runabout stage, but he made up for it 
when we grew old enough to appreciate his ad- 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 9 

ministration. It is in this light, and during this 
later period, that I chiefly remember him. 

Thus, as briefly as possible, I have tried to 
draw upon my memory for a picture of a youth 
in the Highlands of Scotland in what to me are the 
olden times, struggling, unconsciously of course, 
with his environment and heredity. True, the 
process was under cover, but the two lines of 
effort and advance, even then, were clearly de- 
fined. The one was overflowing, disorganized, 
boisterous, and natural. The other was artificial, 
organized, and moral. On the one hand, there 
was heredity, the aboriginal activity and yearn- 
ing of a hunting and fighting disposition, craving 
for expression; and, on the other hand, there was 
the environment of a determined and methodical 
plan on the part of a schoolmaster, a minister, and 
home influences, to turn these half -savage propen- 
sities into civilized channels. 

Personality, it must be remembered, as a con- 
scious factor, was still in the embryo state, biding 
its time. Then, of a sudden, just at this stage of 
development, the forces engaged met in a sort of 
catastrophe and, in a single day, I became a 
conscious and soulful personality. 

It happened in this way, in my eleventh year. 
Between brothers in our family there was no such 
thing as constant comradeship. Occasionally we 
would play together in pairs or otherwise, but 



10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

unless we happened to join forces in some com- 
mon cause, we were usually in a state of chronic 
rivalry. Plots and counterplots were always under 
way. Encounters of every description, for the 
most part manly and short-lived affairs, were the 
order of the day. But we all seemed to have 
chums in the village in whose company most of 
the play-time was spent. 

My particular companion was a little lad about 
my own age, the son of the village miller, whose 
mill was a short distance outside the village on 
the edge of a noted rabbit-warren called "The 
Dens." Alec was even a more inveterate poacher 
than I, and nearly as good a crag-climber. The 
alliance between us was offensive and defensive 
in every particular. We were inseparable. When- 
ever I went astray, and was wanted for anything, 
I was always to be found in the vicinity of this mill. 

In front of the building and, if I am not mis- 
taken, rising sheer from the roadway in front of it, 
the crags spread out to right and left. The bald 
surface of these perpendicular sheets of clay was 
divided at intervals by crevices or ravines running 
vertically from top to bottom. Here and there on 
the face of these parapets there were a number of 
ledges, perhaps twenty or thirty feet long, run- 
ning horizontally across the surface. In nearly all 
of these ledges there were deep holes, burrowed by 
the rabbits. They were the breeding-places of 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 11 

the rabbits and of numerous jackdaws, the natu- 
ral prey of the village boys. One ledge or shelf in 
particular was the despair of every boy in the vil- 
lage. It was simply inaccessible. It seemed as if 
every rabbit we chased out of the " Dens," under- 
standing this fact and mocking us, invariably ran 
across the face of the cliff and took refuge on that 
shelf. 

One day Alec and I determined to scale that 
crag or break our necks in the attempt. We must 
have deliberately and carefully planned the expe- 
dition in advance. We started from the mill one 
morning just before dawn. We provided ourselves 
with knives and a stout rope. Without much diffi- 
culty we scrambled up one of the ravines that 
divided the cliff into sections. When the sun rose 
we were probably two hundred feet from the base 
of the cliff, and horizontally on a level with the 
coveted ledge. To reach it, however, it was neces- 
sary to cut a firm pathway, inch by inch, with our 
knives, for a distance of fifty feet across an almost 
perpendicular parapet. As a guide to our work 
there was already a faint trackway made by the 
rabbits. Along this line, footstep after footstep, 
we dug our perilous way, until about half the dis- 
tance was covered in safety. I was three or four 
yards ahead of my companion. Then, suddenly, 
like a flash, Alec's foothold gave way and down 
he went. In falling he shouted my name. 



12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

There is no necessity to draw on my imagination 
to picture my predicament or to describe my 
state of mind. I am there again this minute. For 
a second or two I was rigid with a sort of terror. 
To turn back was impossible, and I could not look 
down. I simply drove my knife up to the hilt in 
the crag and held on. Then, after an unnoticed 
interval, the sound of shouts from below came up 
to me. They seemed to wake me out of my trance. 

Meanwhile, in some unaccountable way, de- 
termination had taken the place of fear. I have 
always looked back upon these moments as the 
time when my personality first emerged into real 
consciousness. I whispered to myself one word — 
"Courage." Then I went on with my work, 
cutting out the path to the ledge. It was a me- 
chanical process — I did n't seem to know or 
realize what I was doing. I reached the goal and 
returned by the way I had come. 

At the foot of the hill a crowd was awaiting me. 
I did n't ask any questions. I knew from the 
silence that Alec was dead. Half the village ac- 
companied me to my home. My father was away. 
I was locked in the cellar for safe-keeping. 
Toward evening, to my surprise, I was liberated 
and given a good meal. For several days I was 
in disgrace, or thought I was. Then the village 
authorities came and asked me some questions. 

Finally my father returned. I was surprised 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 13 

that he seemed to avoid me. I knew something 
was brewing. Then one morning I was told to 
get ready to go to Inverness with him. Generally 
speaking, the trip was looked upon by any of us 
as a treat. On this occasion, however, I did n't 
flatter myself in this way. Then came another 
surprise. The trip was postponed on account of 
the weather, and I was told to present myself at 
once in the library. 

I had no sooner entered the room than my 
father sent me to a storeroom for a trunk full of 
letters and documents. I at once noticed a change 
in his manner and method of addressing me. 
There was a sort of companionship indicated in 
his words and actions to which I was totally 
unaccustomed. I wondered what was going to 
happen. He said he was sorry about the accident, 
and especially for Alec. He was walking up and 
down the room. I looked up and saw that his lips 
were quivering with emotion. That was enough 
for me. I did n't utter a sound, but I gripped my- 
self all over, while the tears poured from my eyes 
in streams. However, there was no use trying to 
put old heads on young shoulders, he continued, 
and besides, after all, perhaps I was only a chip 
of the old block. In fact, a little stronger than 
some of the other chips, he hoped. There had 
always been too much abortive effort in the 
family. I, at least, had done what I set out to do. 



14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

Of all things he hated abortive effort. I could 
hardly believe my senses. As I listened, every 
minute he was speaking added a year to my life. 

My father knew I was collecting postage 
stamps and " crests." He went on to tell me that 
he was going to burn up a lot of family records 
and letters. He wished me to read a little about 
the family history they contained, and, inciden- 
tally, I could help myself to the stamps. He gave 
me a hint or two in regard to his reasons for de- 
stroying these letters. There were financial trou- 
bles on the horizon. Some kind of family quarrel 
and possibly a lawsuit. We could read the letters 
together, and he would determine as we went 
along which to preserve and which to throw into 
the open fireplace before which we were seated. 

The letters contained family history of a varied 
description, chiefly from India. The health of this 
one, the promotion of another in the Service, the 
expedition of another on a diplomatic mission to 
the Afghans, the sickness and death of a brother 
at Aden, returning home on sick-leave — such 
were some of the topics. 

I was so keyed up at the time that scarcely an 
incident in these letters has escaped my memory. 
Especially impressive to me in many of the letters 
were the stories of financial disaster, and the piti- 
ful forebodings of kinsmen who had lost their all 
in the wreck of the Agra bank. 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 15 

Thus the day passed away and, with intervals 
for meals, my letter-burning occupation was con- 
tinued until late into the evening. But there was 
another incident connected with the occasion that 
made quite an impression upon me at the time. 
When the servant brought in the lights, my father 
ordered some "toddy." He compelled me to 
drink a small quantity. He thought it might 
assist me in going to sleep, but he made it the 
occasion to tell me something about whiskey. Al- 
though, generally speaking, it was something to 
be avoided, on the other hand, it was nothing to 
be afraid of. He mentioned one or two unsatis- 
factory illustrations in the history of the family 
as a warning against its abuse. He thought it 
well for me to understand something about it at 
an early age. " If you take a dislike to it," he 
said, "you will do well. At any rate, govern 
yourself thoughtfully in the matter." Then I 
went to bed in a tumult of mental bewilder- 
ment. 

Psychologically speaking this is the end of the 
personally unconscious period. The next stage 
relates to school-life, to intellectual development, 
and especially to religious foundations. 

in 

There is a tide in the affairs of boys, as well as 
in those of men, that, taken at the flood, leads 



16 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

on to fortune. This is usually the period when 
the boy, awakening to a consciousness of his 
own personality, determines, it matters not how 
feebly at first, to think and act for himself. 

In my own case, self-assertion, on a small scale, 
of course, began almost immediately after the 
death of my companion Alec. I can only attribute 
my somewhat premature development in this 
respect to the mental shock which I received upon 
that occasion, and there was one feature about 
this sudden development which seems to me to 
be worth mentioning. This was the abnormal 
sensitiveness that ensued. Mental impressions 
of all kinds were very acute, and at times almost 
painful. I remember how careful I was not to 
offend any one, or to hurt the feelings of any one 
in any way. This led to a natural desire on my 
part to do my best in order to secure the good 
opinion of people. 

But this feature was only incidental; my real 
purpose was to be better and stronger than my 
companions in whatever sphere I might happen 
to meet them. After all, this was only a very natu- 
ral desire and a simple development of the life I 
had been leading; but that the consciousness 
of will-power should actually add to the strength 
of my muscles was a revelation to me at the time 
and was illustrated one day in a very emphatic 
manner. 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 17 

A number of boys were playing in the vicinity 
of the blacksmith's shop. Lifting weights was one 
of our customary pastimes. The biggest boy in 
the company was one of my brothers who was 
two or three years my senior. Incidentally, he 
took hold of a small anvil, but failed to move it. 
Thereupon I lifted it from the ground with appar- 
ent ease. The boys shouted, and the blacksmith 
came out and challenged me to do it again. I did 
so. But the peculiar part of this illustration is that 
I distinctly remember half chuckling to myself 
and saying, "I have a secret." 

This kind of self-consciousness affected my 
behavior in a marked degree. I became quiet in 
my manner and studious in my habits. What 
may be called the dawn of purpose in my behavior 
led naturally to a good deal of concentration, 
and, at this psychological moment, the Free Kirk 
minister, Mr. Brown, took hold of me. 

To try to explain what religion meant to such 
an impressionist as I was, at that early age, would 
be a useless proceeding. I think, however, the 
religion of the Free Church was thoroughly in 
harmony with my mental level at the time. For 
one thing, it introduced me to the Bible, but of 
this book and its influence I shall have more to 
say at a later stage of my story. At any rate, Mr. 
Brown instilled into me the principles of ortho- 
doxy, and of the Bible as the great human guide, 



18 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

in the same way that McTavish, the school- 
master, was pounding into me the construction 
of hexameters in Latin verse, and the value of x 
in algebra. The following story will give an idea 
of my religious condition at this time, and of the 
change from my former childlike indifference in 
such matters. 

One day, very thoughtlessly, I took aim with 
a stone and killed a sparrow. I can never forget 
the religious turmoil the act excited in my mind. 
The situation, I am afraid, does not admit of in- 
terpretation, still less of appreciation, at the 
present day. I took refuge in prayer, — a pro- 
cess whose spiritual aim and practical end is 
discipline. 

But the most noticeable phase of this early 
religious training was the strange secrecy that was 
maintained on all sides in regard to moral prob- 
lems from a practical point of view. I speak of the 
sermonizing on the subject. "Lead us not into 
temptation," was interpreted in its widest signi- 
ficance. I was terribly impressed with wickedness 
in the abstract. Ignorance and innocence were 
supposed to be the safest route to salvation. One 
day coming across the expression, "The Scarlet 
Woman," I asked Mr. Brown to explain it to me. 
I remember his answer: "My boy, at your age 
curiosity will do you a great deal more harm 
than enlightenment will do you good. Study 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 19 

the * Paradise Lost' and beware of the popular 
craving for the novels of Dickens." 

This, then, was the religious atmosphere in 
which I was being educated. Its central tenet 
was the necessity for an absolute ignorance of the 
world and its dangers from the practical point of 
view, in combination with religious safeguards 
that were depended upon to act instinctively 
in times of temptation and danger. It has been 
necessary for me to dwell on this religious situa- 
tion at the time when my personality was begin- 
ning to assert itself, in order that the practical 
tests of the system which came later may be 
thoroughly understood. It was in this supersen- 
sitive condition, therefore, that my final studies 
in my twelfth year in the academy in Fortrose 
were continued. 

The sudden change in my habits and general 
deportment was immediately noticed by my 
father and by McTavish, the schoolmaster. The 
former took many opportunities to favor and en- 
courage me. The schoolmaster also, taking his 
cue from my father, took considerable pride in 
the progress I was making in my studies. This 
schoolmaster was first of all and principally an 
educational machine, but considering the material 
and the difficulties he had to contend with, some 
sixty or seventy boys and girls of various ages in a 
single room, under his exclusive direction, he was 



20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

probably the right kind of man in the right place. 
At no time during my pupilage under him, how- 
ever, did this man have any intellectual or moral 
attraction for me. He possessed a method, and 
that was all. In my mind's eye I can see him now 
standing on the platform at the end of the school- 
room, slightly to one side of an enormous black- 
board, a long lance-like pointer in one hand, and 
the ever-present "taws" swinging significantly 
in the other. He brings the pointer down sharply 
on the floor and says, "Attention." Then he 
scribbles off a problem of some kind on the board, 
takes a step forward and says, "One, two, three, 
off!" At once there is a rattle and squeaking of 
slate pencils, and after an interval some one 
brings his slate down on his desk with a slam and 
shouts, "First." Others follow in rotation as fast 
as their tasks are completed. Meanwhile, Mc- 
Tavish is in the body of the hall, scrutinizing the 
answers and admonishing the slow ones. In all 
probability he pounces upon a "dunce," takes 
him by the ear and deposits him silently in the 
corner of the room with his face to the wall. 
Occasionally, however, in a magnanimous mood, 
he returns to the platform empty-handed and 
explains the difficulties in the problem in the most 
sympathetic manner. Once in a while in his re- 
marks to the pupils he lapses into the brogue of 
the neighborhood. On one occasion I happen to 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 21 

shout "First," at the top of my voice. " Jeames, 
my boy," he replies, "dinna shoot; when ye 're no 
first, I'll be making a note of it." 

But perhaps the most exceptional feature of 
this schoolmaster's administration was his quar- 
terly "repoorts," as they were called. They were 
delivered in person. As a rule, he borrowed a 
pony for the purpose. He usually set out on a 
Wednesday afternoon and took in a circuit of 
seven or eight miles. At every house which he 
entered for the purpose of reporting the progress 
of the children, he was invariably refreshed with a 
good drink of whiskey; the consequence was that, 
by the time he was headed for home, the pony was 
thoroughly worked up. On the home-stretch we 
boys were agreed that there was no one like our 
schoolmaster for getting a Tarn o' Shanter-like 
gallop out of that pony. 

However, in regard to my own progress, I 
probably studied hard because I was compelled 
to. Thanks to McTavish, his methods, and his 
"taws," there was no doubt about my proficiency 
in the "Three R's." In regard to these funda- 
mentals McTavish was a tyrant. Neither the 
Laird's first-born, nor the poorest lad in the vil- 
lage, could escape this initial drilling. And by the 
way, the number of books that were carried to 
and fro was one of the astonishing features of 
our school-life. Morning and evening the country 



22 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

roads were dotted with boys and girls carrying 
piles of books certainly two feet deep at times, 
securely strapped between boards and slung over 
stout little shoulders. The girls usually managed 
to saddle themselves with the heaviest burdens, 
and the most desperate fight I ever engaged in 
was for the privilege of carrying one of these 
ponderous libraries. 

Such, then, in brief, was my intellectual and 
religious condition when I left this village school 
and was sent to a grammar school in Manchester, 
England, to continue my studies. There were 
eight or nine hundred boys in this school, and I 
was admitted to it on what was called the "foun- 
dation." There was a batch of twenty of us who 
were successful in this way, winnowed out of a 
couple of hundred aspirants. When I left the 
school I was in the fifth "form." The master's 
name was Styles, and his methods and personality 
were typical of the whole school. Our class of 
thirty boys was divided into sections. Each sec- 
tion had its overseer — one of ourselves — and, 
in this way, the master kept in touch with every 
unit in the class. 

Religious instruction was part of the curricu- 
lum, and, during an attendance of a little over 
three years at this grammar school, my religious 
ideas were enlarged considerably and my convic- 
tions deepened. This was also by far the hardest 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 23 

study-period of my life, and my book-knowledge 
was extended over a wide range of subjects. I 
was also an inveterate football and cricket player, 
but my studies took precedence over everything. 
The concentration of mind, brought about by 
continuous study, resulted in a mental condition 
that was altogether too morbid and introspective, 
and but for the timely intervention and advice 
of Mr. Styles, serious mental results would have 
followed. I had only one or two companions whom 
I cared anything about, and they were nearly as 
studious as myself. I did not get into scrapes of 
any kind, and I remember Mr. Styles saying to 
me one day that he thought if I broke loose once 
in a while it would widen my horizon a little. How- 
ever, he went right to work on my case in his usual 
practical manner: he insisted on daily exercise 
and play, he took me to the theatre (I had never 
been in my life before), and during the following 
holiday season I went with him to visit some 
friends near London; incidentally he gave me a 
vivid introduction to some of the scenes and 
problems of a great city. 

There is just one final feature of my training 
in this grammar school which I think it will be 
well to mention. This has reference to the class 
spirit that was instilled into the boys with such 
sincerity and force that it was actually a normal 
condition, both in field-sports and in studies, and 



24 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

any deviation from it was always roundly de- 
nounced by the boys themselves. This phase of 
my school-life had a striking illustration during 
the class examinations, just before my departure 
from the school. 

I was particularly anxious to head the class list 
on this occasion, and as I was in what was called a 
classical "form," or class, at the time, the princi- 
pal tests were in our knowledge of Latin and 
Greek. There were thirty-odd boys in the form; 
the room just accommodated us comfortably, 
each boy being seated at his individual desk with 
his printed examination paper before him. My 
most dreaded rival in these examinations sat 
next me at a desk on the right, and I think that 
this boy, who was a genius in many ways, would 
have beaten me if he had not resorted to unlawful 
methods . We were translating a passage from the 
"Medea" of Euripides at the time, and as I 
happened to look round in this boy's direction, it 
struck me he was trying to hide something with 
his elbow. In short, I soon came to the conclu- 
sion that he was making use of a "crib" or trans- 
lation, the edge of which just projected under his ; 
desk cover. I was so dumfounded that I could 
hardly believe my eyes. The fifth form was the 
second highest in the school, and such an occur- 
rence among us was almost unthinkable. How- 
ever, acting simply in the class spirit, which in 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 25 

fact I did n't have to think about, I at once stood 
up and asked the form master if it would be con- 
sidered the proper thing then and there to name 
a boy for cribbing. He replied, "Most certainly." 
I did so. The boy, without a word of excuse, 
bluntly and frankly pleaded guilty. He was 
immediately expelled from the classroom, and 
the cheering that followed the closing of the inci- 
dent, which the master himself encouraged, gave 
me instantly to understand that I had not been 
mistaken in my estimate of the class spirit. 

IV 

My school life in Manchester ended rather 
abruptly. My younger brothers were coming 
along, and it became necessary for me to earn a 
living. It was a time when telegraph cables were 
being laid to all parts of the world. So I went up 
to London and spent some time learning to ope- 
rate the cable instruments. I made such good 
progress that I very soon received an appoint- 
ment in the service of a company that was then 
laying cables along the coast of South America, 
and forthwith I made preparations to leave Eng- 
land. 

At this point it will be well to call to mind 
my intellectual and religious condition. I was 
pretty well equipped with school-learning, and 
my mind was filled with a mass of moral general- 



26 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ities, but of the world and its practical dangers 
and temptations I was supremely ignorant. I 
was extremely religious, but, according to modern 
ideas and standards, my education lacked its 
most essential feature. This, however, was the 
religious stage of my development, and it must 
bear its own burden and tell its own story. 

Just before leaving England I received an invi- 
tation to visit a cousin who was home from India 
on a visit. He was about forty years of age, and 
by far the strongest, most practical, and withal 
the noblest kind of man I had yet encountered. 
He tried to explain to me the different aspects of 
city life from a practical point of view, but al- 
though I listened attentively to his advice it did 
not seem to appeal to me in a personal way. I 
could not get away from the mass of generalities 
in which my knowledge of good and evil was 
enveloped, and it was these practical aspects of 
life that my cousin endeavored to bring home to 
me in a final interview. 

Just before my departure for South America, 
we sat side by side in the anteroom of a restaurant. 
I retain the liveliest and kindliest recollection of 
this conversation. My cousin spoke first of him- 
self. There were many incidents and shortcomings 
in his own career on which he looked back with 
keenest regret, and perhaps on that very account 
his words should have had additional weight. 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 27 

Then he turned to my own plans and prospects. 
He had been informed of my satisfactory record 
at school, but that by itself, in his opinion, did n't 
amount to much. The problems of life were not 
to be solved by the mere exercise of intellectual 
attainments. He said a good deal about heredity 
and environment, although he did not make use 
of these terms, but he laid emphasis upon what he 
called "streaks" and habits. All these ideas and 
situations, he contended, are for the most part 
derived from the behavior of people who drift. 
They have no terrors to the man with a purpose 
in life, and a will. He took a number of illustra- 
tions from our own family history as practical 
examples of individual success and failure, and to 
show that character is always dependent upon 
pronounced individualism. 

In conclusion my cousin asked me if I had read 
any novels. He wished I would immediately read 
one of Bulwer-Lytton's — I have forgotten the 
title. He referred specifically to one passage or 
chapter in this book, in which the guardian of a 
young lady calls her attention to a small plant or 
fern half hidden among the rocks on a hillside. 
He told her he had been watching the little plant 
for weeks in its brave struggle to lift its head up 
out of its unfavorable surroundings into the clear 
air and sunshine. From my cousin's point of view 
it was a striking lesson in character-building, the 



28 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

significance of which was accentuated by the 
parting advice given to this girl by the guardian, 
"Keep yourself unspotted from the world." 

If my cousin had understood my mental con- 
dition at the time he would have been more ex- 
plicit. As it was, I only half understood his mean- 
ing. To keep myself unspotted from the world 
was just another Biblical text, and I was still in 
the thraldom of these terrible generalities. How- 
ever unusual and morbid my mental state at this 
time may appear to this matter-of-fact and prac- 
tical generation, I cannot refrain from describing 
the sequel to this interview. 

I wandered homeward to my lodging. Every 
step of the journey is indelibly fixed on my mem- 
ory. Early in the afternoon I took a seat in a se- 
cluded spot in Kensington Gardens. Before long 
I was disturbed and sought a still quieter situa- 
tion. I soon found an enormous tree-trunk, roots 
and all, from which the tree itself had been 
severed and carted away. In the great cavity in 
the ground, caused by the violent uprooting of 
the tree, I ensconced myself. I wished to think 
over this problem of life, and of my future, which 
my cousin had been trying so patiently to impart 
to me. What did he actually mean when he told 
me to keep myself unspotted from the world? 
Was there actually a conspiracy in nature or 
otherwise, for the waylaying and moral destruc- 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND 29 

tion of people? If so, under what guise and in 
what form was I to look for it? Hour after hour 
I pondered, and still no light came. I was finally 
aroused from my reverie by the monotonous and 
oft-repeated cry of the park policeman, "All out, 
all out." Then I made the best of my way 
homeward. 

A few days later, in the city of Lisbon, the 
revelation and the awakening took place. It is 
all so simple now. It was so terrible then. It 
happened in this way. 

There was some delay to our outward-bound 
steamer at Lisbon and the opportunity presented 
itself to go on shore for a while. Several of my 
fellow clerks were also on this ship, but they had 
been seasick in the bay, so I did not bother about 
them. I went on shore alone. It was, of course, 
my first introduction to a foreign city, and it 
goes without saying that the dreamy, languorous 
atmosphere, the sun-baked streets, the sort of 
aimless sauntering of the populace in this semi- 
tropical city were very new and strange to me. 

Before long a young man stepped up to me and 
inquired in good English if I did not wish to look 
at the most notable buildings and sights of the 
city. He would be glad to show me round for a 
mere trifle. So I made a bargain with him and set 
out. We visited many places of interest, and, 
finally, in crossing a large square, my guide 



30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF^AN INDIVIDUALIST 

excused himself for a minute for the purpose of 
speaking to a young woman, who happened to 
cross our path. After an interval he returned. 
He immediately began to tell me about the young 
woman. It was an extraordinary case; she was 
a cousin of his from the country, driven from 
home by harsh treatment, and here she was alone 
and penniless in the city. He had n't seen her for 
years. However, he had directed her to his own 
home, where she would be taken care of for a 
time, at any rate. Then we continued our sight- 
seeing. 

Finally, I mentioned my desire to return to the 
ship. I then offered the man the sum of money we 
had agreed upon. He said he would attend to that 
later, and added, "Here we are close to my 
home; if you will step in we can sit down and rest 
for a minute or two, and take a little refresh- 
ment." It was the simplest kind of a proposi- 
tion, so we entered the house together. He led 
the way into an inner room which was cosily 
fitted up with lounges and reclining-chairs, on 
one of which I seated myself. He then left the 
room. 

Ten minutes or so passed away and I was be- 
ginning to wonder at the delay, when the door 
opened, and a young woman appeared on the 
threshold. It was the interpreter's cousin whom 
we had met in the public square. She greeted me 



BEGINNINGS IN SCOTLAND SI 

familiarly and extended her hand. I shook it 
mechanically. Her garments were sparkling with 
ornament, and a mass of color. For a second she 
simply stood there playing with a tassel that dan- 
gled from her headdress; then suddenly from her 
lips came a ripple of laughter, and she tapped her 
foot lightly on the floor. 

Meanwhile, my mind was passing through a 
tempest of conflicting emotions. Something said 
to me, "Here you are at last — what are you 
going to do about it? Here is your generality in 
human form — the event itself." 

In an instant the situation in its true light 
dawned upon me. The mental struggle banished. 
A world of generalities were converted instinct- 
ively into a practical decision. It was at once a 
recognition and an outburst. The writing on the 
wall was now made clear to me in all its vital sig- 
nificance: "Keep yourself unspotted from the 
world." 

I brushed the woman to one side, ripped open 
the door, and found myself face to face with the 
interpreter. I threw his money at his feet. I 
seemed to possess the concentrated strength of a 
dozen men. I sent him spinning across the floor 
and rushed out into the street. 



II 

LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 



A journey of a few hundred miles in any coun- 
try is usually sufficient to separate a boy from 
his home props and influences, and to impress 
upon his mind, in some degree, the necessity for 
independent thought and action. But the separa- 
tion in such a case is seldom complete. He may 
still find himself among friends and, at the worst, 
his neighbors will understand his needs, and be 
able to speak his language. But let him once put 
an ocean between himself and everybody he has 
ever spoken to or loved in this world, and imme- 
diately time and space, and the void in his own 
heart, become almost immeasurable. Such was 
the situation I was called upon to face on my 
return to the steamer, after my adventurous and 
very clarifying experience on the streets of Lisbon. 

And just at this point in my narrative, a word 
of explanation should be given. It must not be 
imagined by my readers, or assumed for an in- 
stant by myself, that in the stage which I am 
now attempting to describe there was, to begin 
with, any suspicion of philosophy in my mental 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 33 

composition. In Lisbon I had received a sudden 
and somewhat rude awakening. After a long 
period of intellectual and religious cramming, I 
suddenly found myself face to face with example 
and illustration in the concrete. It is impossible 
to describe the mental change that accompanied 
this awakening. In a very matter-of-fact way, I 
began to recognize in my environment a number 
of other dangers of a very practical and personal 
nature, and in order to steer clear of them all, 
I fell back upon the only resource of which, at 
the time, I had any knowledge, and that was 
prayer. 

At the present day, I am afraid prayer has very 
little intellectual or spiritual reality. In polite 
society, and in the public schools, for example, it 
is seldom mentioned in a spiritual way, or even as 
an intellectual or moral exercise, although, we 
may as well confess, no substitute for it has ever 
been proposed. Its educational value, however, 
has always seemed to me immense. 

From the fact, then, that I have given this 
period of my life very serious consideration, I 
think I am justified in concluding that my under- 
standing of the situation is, in the main, correct : 
that when I returned to the ship, after a visit 
to the city of Lisbon, it was simply fear that took 
possession of me; for the most part, moral fear, 
which one of those Biblical expressions, so 



34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

pregnant with practical insight, reminds us is 
"the beginning of wisdom." 

I wish to be clearly understood in my defense 
of these natural safeguards under the protection 
of which I was preparing to face the world and 
its problems, for the reason that fear also, as a 
moral and educative force, is now frequently 
looked upon as a relic of religious barbarism. In 
the new dispensation, love is to take the place of 
fear. By all means let us welcome the change, 
but there is danger in haste. As a practical factor 
in life, fear is still of the greatest economic and 
spiritual value. The natural order of spiritual 
progress seems to be, fear, purification, and then 
love. In the Biblical text, "Perfect love casteth 
out fear," the emphasis is on the word "Perfect." 

The day after leaving Lisbon, I made the ac- 
quaintance of some of my shipmates. Besides 
myself there were three telegraph clerks on board, 
and with one of them, in particular, this narra- 
tive has considerable to do. His name was 
Broadbent. He was then about thirty years of 
age. He was a widely informed man, particularly 
well posted in all matters relating to his profes- 
sion. He was one of those intellectually clever 
men who sometimes find it difficult to settle down 
anywhere. He had filled responsible positions in 
the cable service in all parts of the world, and he 
was then on his way to Brazil as clerk in charge 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 35 

of the cable office at Santos, where I expected 
to be located for a time; consequently I lost no 
time in making his acquaintance. He proved to 
be a man of ideas, as well as of great practical 
experience. He had also read a great deal, and 
knew how to utilize his information conversa- 
tionally. 

It didn't take Broadbent long to look me 
over and take my measure. In a day or two after 
leaving Lisbon I had shaken myself clear of any 
desire I might have had for introspection or sol- 
itude. Physically I was in splendid condition, 
and this led naturally to mental and bodily enthu- 
siasm of every description. I distinctly remember, 
after my first night on board ship, with what an 
all-absorbing curiosity in regard to myself and 
my surroundings I ventured on deck. I felt a 
great desire to know people, to mingle with them, 
and to find out what they were talking about, and 
I began with Broadbent. 

He seemed to enjoy my frankness and simplicity 
of manner. I was making my first appearance in 
the world, and he found me unusually interested 
in everything and everybody. I made no secret 
of my religious training and convictions, and the 
ingenuous, matter-of-fact way in which I expressed 
myself on the subject seemed to arouse no end 
of amusement and interest. I can never forget 
Broadbent's remark at the end of our first inter- 



36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

view: he said, "You are a strange fish in muddy 
waters." 

To tell the truth, this kind of reception flattered 
my vanity, and started a current of self-esteem. I 
understand now that right here are to be noticed 
the first indications of a definite philosophy, which 
in a few days, with the assistance of Broadbent, 
was brought out into clear relief. 

After mingling with people on the ship for a 
day or two, I was very much surprised to note 
that practically everybody was either ignorant or 
neglectful of what may be called the Biblical 
treatment of the problems of correct living. It 
was just at this point, and in this manner, that I 
first got it into my head that I was an individual 
representing something that differed essentially 
from the spiritual stock-in-trade of the people 
in whose company I was. And thus, in the most 
natural way, and at the outset of my career, I 
found myself face to face with the philosophy of 
personal conduct in its relation to life in general. 

Broadbent soon found out what I was driving 
at, and singled me out for his intellectual quarry. 
He told me in plain English that he had met me 
before in different shapes and sizes, that he looked 
upon all such people as interesting mediaeval 
survivals, emotional for the most part, but not 
lasting. In fact, in his opinion, all that was want- 
ing to convert me into a reasonable and useful 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 37 

member of society, was to put me into actual 
touch with people and conditions, and then to 
instill into my callow and superficial understand- 
ing, a little knowledge in regard to the biological 
and sociological discoveries with which scientists 
and philosophers were then busily enlightening 
the world. 

Broadbent was altogether too big for me at 
this game. I had neither the knowledge nor the 
ability to meet him on his own ground in an argu- 
ment of this description. Furthermore, I actually 
admired the man. I absorbed the information 
he imparted to me, by the chapter. It was all so 
new to me, and, withal, so fascinating. I could see 
no reason to doubt the truth or underestimate the 
value to society, of the discoveries of science 
which he championed so eloquently. But down in 
my heart my satisfaction was tempered with a 
sort of secret determination to find out, as soon 
as possible, just what effect all this wisdom had 
had in the past, and was having in the present, 
upon Broadbent the man. This was the issue 
that my individuality and budding philosophy 
were preparing to test him with, and later on he 
was called upon to answer these personal inquiries. 

At that time, however, he had little idea of 
the nature of the soil he was trying to cultivate. 
He looked upon me as a precocious greenhorn, 
and he proceeded cleverly, and with design, to 



38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

draw me out for the edification of our little ship- 
board audience. But I was not so green as he 
imagined. My mental experience was consider- 
able, and my contact with life, and with Broad- 
bent, was converting my reveries into expression 
and ideas of a practical nature. Unavoidably 
those were idle days on board ship, and a week 
spent in Broadbent's company was probably 
equal to a year's intercourse with people whom 
one meets in the usual way. Broadbent, I think, 
was a little flattered, or at any rate amused, at 
the tribute I paid by my attention to his intellec- 
tual attainments, and our discussions became the 
talk of the ship. On several occasions the cabin 
of one of the officers, in which our conversations 
took place, was crowded to the door. 

The reasons I have for remembering these dis- 
cussions are much more than personal. My expe- 
rience was only an illustration, on a small scale, 
of the intellectual excitement that was being 
aroused at the time, all over the world. It was 
finding practical and theoretical expression in a 
great wave of miscellaneous experiment and dis- 
cussion. For one thing, the Book of Genesis and 
miracles of every description in Biblical history 
were on trial at the bar of the "Missing Link." 
As it seems to me, nothing has ever aroused and 
stimulated the intellectual, and particularly the 
critical, faculties of mankind so universally and 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 39 

permanently as this simple biological investiga- 
tion. Hitherto, in Broadbent's own words, the 
mind of society, in its treatment of human know- 
ledge had been, intellectually speaking, like a 
closed oyster, and now Darwin and Lyell and 
Tyndall and Huxley and Herbert Spencer were 
opening it with cold-blooded; indifference to 
people's feelings or opinions. A more auspicious 
point of time for any young man to make his entry 
into the world of science, religion, and practical 
affairs cannot be imagined. 

The abruptness of this intellectual split cannot, 
I think, be appreciated to its full extent by the 
present generation. It was not so much a mere 
question of evolution on the one hand and crea- 
tion on the other. The movement itself, repre- 
sented by the men I have mentioned, signalized 
the bursting of all barriers, and the complete 
enfranchisement of the mind in every department 
of human inquiry. 

I remember in what a clever and fascinating 
manner Broadbent imparted to his listeners the 
latest marvels of sociological and biological ex- 
periment. I recognize now, in connection with it, 
his distinct foreshadowing of the doctrines of 
socialism. But these revelations, which in fact I 
little understood, did not disturb me in the least. 
Nearly every word the man uttered enriched my 
mind and widened my horizon. 



40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

But then again, when I retired to my cabin, 
after listening to Broadbent, I still, and, always, 
found myself face to face with my own individu- 
ality, that is to say, with my own personal pro- 
blems. This was inevitable for the following very 
practical reason. Nearly every man on the ship 
spent most of his time in drinking and gambling. 
These were facts of which, hitherto, I had not had 
the slightest practical knowledge. I instinctively 
understood that these habits were fundamental, 
and, looking on from day to day, I could not for 
the life of me understand how these great personal 
issues of life were simplified, or solved in any way, 
by the discovery that creation was a myth. In 
this way, in spite of my increasing enlightenment, 
the personal aspect of affairs acquired additional 
emphasis, and was not to be disturbed by any 
mere theory of origins. 

Broadbent, however, stated his case very 
clearly. I remember his argument distinctly. He 
affirmed that character, in its best sense, is fun- 
damentally scientific and not religious, and for 
this reason good behavior is bound to win out in 
the end. I, on the other hand, insisted on separat- 
ing the issues. I contended that the end or result 
he looked forward to by the scientific route, was 
too far off for practical purposes ; and that in the 
mean time, the personal method, guided by pre- 
cepts of Christianity, must remain the thorough- 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 41 

fare to personal and social salvation of every 
description. Right here on this issue, before the 
end of the voyage, Broadbent and I locked horns. 
In his opinion the scientific interpretation and 
unfolding of life contained also its moral inter- 
pretation. Many people who figure in the same 
way at the present day, fancifully propose to 
refill the churches by a fairer adjustment of 
economic conditions. To me, then as now, it 
seems possible and necessary to separate the 
issues, and to insist upon a clear understanding 
of their value and relative importance. 

Be this as it may, I told Broadbent I was glad 
to hear his side of it for his own sake. I informed 
him that I was going out to Brazil in the first place, 
of course, to earn a living, but incidentally also, 
to study the lives of people, including his own, 
with the idea of finding out, if possible, just how 
our opinions on the subject stood the test of 
actual contact with life. 

However, to do Broadbent justice, he had done 
me a world of good. In the short space of three 
weeks I had changed or been converted from a 
mere boy, perplexed with a mind full of emotional 
instincts, into an individual, with a more or less 
definite trade-mark, and with a certain point of 
view in regard to life and living in which I had 
become enthusiastically interested. I had stepped 
suddenly into the midst of the world of affairs; 



42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

my impressions of people and of conduct were 
acute; every person on this ship was a problem 
of some kind to me, and every hour that passed 
added to my stock of practical enlightenment. 

But while Broadbent and I were engaged in 
these sociological discussions I became, at the 
same time, involved in a matter of a different 
nature altogether, at the hands of another man 
who, meantime, had become interested in me and 
my fortunes. 

II 

When I look back at the outline of the past, 
the events worth mentioning stand out by them- 
selves and assume a dream-like reality. Doubt- 
less the events cut deep and the impressions were 
acute, hence their survival; and now distance and 
time have added to their enchantment. The facts 
and the faces are still to me intensely real; never- 
theless, my casting adrift from home influences, 
my first sea-voyage, my first encounter with 
opinions and people, and my first observations of 
life, read to-day more like a chapter copied at 
random from "Gulliver's Travels," or the "Ara- 
bian Nights' Entertainments," than a narrative of 
sober happenings that took place on a humdrum 
steamship. 

To me, at any rate, the world in its first appear- 
ance was a tremendous situation, and I was a sort 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 43 

of unaccountable fact awaiting treatment of some 
kind, in the centre of it. My curiosity and enthu- 
siasm, however, were only heightened by the con- 
sciousness of my personal insignificance. On this 
my first sea voyage, in a most astonishing man- 
ner, practical intelligence and enlightenment were 
imparted to me in a series of shocks, and every 
increase in knowledge added to my self-import- 
ance in relation to my surroundings. Every time 
I came on deck I looked round for new features and 
new faces to investigate. I was continually on 
the tiptoe of expectation, and this unfeigned and 
exuberant interest which I took in my environ- 
ment, was returned to me before long, very curi- 
ously, and in double measure. 

Among the passengers on the ship was a well- 
to-do Spaniard, a South-American trader, as he 
was called, and his son Jose. They were return- 
ing to their home in Rosario, then as now a city 
of rising importance in the Argentine Republic. 
The merchant was a widower, some sixty years 
old, and his son was a pale-faced, interesting 
boy, of studious habits, my senior by a year or 
two. 

Beginning at school and continuing until to- 
day, one of the greatest of my intellectual pleas- 
ures has been the study of languages; so when I 
found out that this young fellow was as anxious to 
learn English as I was to acquire a knowledge of 



44 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

Spanish, an acquaintance was begun between us 
that soon developed into a closer intimacy. We 
went to work systematically in our studies; twice 
a day, regularly, for two weeks, we came together 
for the purpose of adding to our vocabularies, and 
of engaging in conversational exercises, and during 
these study periods the old gentleman was always 
an interested listener. Under such favorable con- 
ditions our progress was remarkable. In less than 
two weeks, with the assistance of the dictionaries 
added to the very slight knowledge of the language 
we had acquired in school, we could worry through 
almost anything we wished to say. 

As the days passed the old Spaniard's interest 
increased, and he began to ask me all sorts of 
questions about my business intentions and pros- 
pects. It was customary for many of the young 
men on the ship to come together daily and en- 
gage in gymnastic exercises. In some of the com- 
petitions I more than held my own. This seemed 
to astonish the old gentleman; that one so young 
should be so enthusiastic physically and intellec- 
tually at the same time, seemed to him most 
unusual. And then again, my simple application 
of Biblical texts to everyday-life, and my inter- 
pretation of them from the personal standpoint,, 
seemed to please him exceedingly. He had quite a 
fair knowledge of the English language, and had 
no difficulty in understanding me. The boy, also, 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 45 

was interested in these matters and took pleas- 
ure in my society. As for me, I knew absolutely 
nothing about Spanish life and character, and I 
did not pause long enough to give my growing 
intimacy with these people so much as a passing 
thought. I was open-minded, however, and judged 
appearances for just what they seemed to be 
worth. Without advice from anybody I trusted 
my own judgment and went ahead. But at night, 
in prayer-like reveries, I always squared up for 
the day's doings, and acquired fresh courage and 
guidance for the days to come. 

At intervals the old gentleman questioned me 
about the details of my situation in the telegraph 
service, and he seemed to think very little of the 
opportunities and prospects connected with it. 
On the other hand, with great earnestness, he and 
the boy tried to impress upon me ideas of the 
wealth and enterprise of the people in Buenos 
Ayres and Rosario, and of the splendid future 
that was in store for a part of the American conti- 
nent that was just then beginning to acquire a 
world-wide celebrity. In his broken manner and 
language, and as best he could, he repeatedly 
broached the idea and wish that I should become 
interested in some enterprise more in harmony 
with my talents and enthusiasm. 
* This familiar intercourse was continued until we 
came in sight of the harbor at Rio de Janeiro. 



46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

I was then in that amiable and impressionable 
state of mind when the affectionate regard of 
these people took right hold of me, and I listened 
to the glowing story of the old Spanish merchant 
with unfeigned interest and delight. Just when 
the passengers whose destination was Rio — and 
I was one of them — were making ready to leave 
the ship, I was invited to his cabin for a farewell 
interview. Broken as was his language, I had no 
difficulty in understanding the drift and exact 
substance of this conversation, which culminated 
in a remarkable proposition. 

The fact of the matter was, he was opposed to 
my leaving the ship at Rio. He could not bear to 
terminate our friendship so abruptly. Was it not 
a fact that Jose and I were getting along famously 
in our studies? It would be such a pity to separate 
us. We should make a splendid pair of workers in 
any business, especially in his business in Rosario, 
which in a few years, in the ordinary course of 
events, would belong to Jose exclusively. And 
then, again, there was his little daughter Amelie, 
who was in Rosario, awaiting his return. She was 
so very amiable and so very pretty. At that mo- 
ment, to be sure, she was a mere child just passing 
her eleventh year; but what of that? By the time 
I should be twenty she would be a charming little 
woman. In short, the proposition was from his 
heart, honest and unmistakable, and the old 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 47 

trader's hand was in mine as he made it, — so 
many thousands and a share in the business to 
begin with, and in the near future a partnership 
and a bride; the details regarding my baggage 
and the affairs of the telegraph company could 
easily be arranged. 

From his point of view there was nothing re- 
markable in this seemingly generous offer. Adop- 
tions of this kind were everyday occurrences 
among Spaniards in South America; in fact the 
people were looking forward to this blending of 
races as a national policy, which closely concerned 
their social and industrial destiny. Undoubtedly, 
then, under these circumstances, a career of 
unusual activity and usefulness, as well as of 
domestic happiness, was in store for me. On the 
other hand, he continued, if I landed in Rio, and 
took my chances in that unholy city, I was 
doomed to destruction. Not one in a score of the 
young Europeans who tried to live, or rather to 
flicker for a while in such pestilential localities, 
was able to weather the scourge of the climate 
and the riot of social conditions. As for the cities, 
there was actually no choice — Rio, Santos, Bahia, 
Permanbuco, Para, they were all the same. In 
six months I would certainly find myself physi- 
cally wrecked and morally ruined. To Rosario, 
then, where health and happiness awaited me ! 

It is impossible to look back upon this situation 



48 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

with an unbiased or fully equipped understanding. 
Never before or since those memorable days on 
board ship has life appeared to me to be so full of 
hope, so temptingly dangerous, so splendor-laden. 
I am willing to admit that everything connected 
with my progress up to this point must be looked 
upon as unusually eventful and, in a measure, 
prematurely expansive. The story is none the less 
interesting on that account. Selecting its most 
prominent and typical incidents, the most hum- 
drum existence has nearly always a dramatic 
outline; and for the rest, I can only judge of what 
I was, or of what I thought at the time, by what 
I actually did. For instance, did the romantic 
and mercenary features of this proposition appeal 
to me? Certainly not, in their full significance. 
Did I pause to think what the folks at home would 
have to say about it? Under the circumstances 
this would have been of little use. To give a 
candid opinion, however, I should say that my 
instinctive and budding self-assertion, my love of 
adventure, and, above all, my insatiable curiosity 
to get into the world of affairs and interpret for 
my own use some of its riddles, were my all-pow- 
erful guides on this occasion. I accepted the prop- 
osition, in a provisional way, on the spot. 

This first journey on shipboard is more import- 
ant in my autobiography than the two years of 
work and experience in South America that fol- 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 49 

lowed. It was a point of departure that set me 
adrift on a wave of personal investigation, and 
intellectual adventure, that I shall^now describe. 
As for the proposition of the Spanish mer- 
chant, it soon died a natural death; and the story 
has little relation to my future, except as an 
illustration of the bold way in which, without 
premeditation, I set out to experiment with op- 
portunity, and with my own powers in connection 
with it. However, I explained the affair, in part, 
to Broadbent, who took a business-like view of 
the matter, and arranged for a short leave of 
absence from my duties. The adventure itself 
soon came to an end. I remained for two or three 
weeks in Rosario, and, ridiculous as the affair 
may now seem, was beginning to think seriously 
of a permanent sojourn, when suddenly the old 
merchant died. Then a change came over the 
scene and the prospects; some legal and domestic 
complications arose, in which I had no desire to 
take part. To simplify matters, I withdrew from 
the family circle, and made the best of my way 
to my original destination at Santos. 

Ill 

I must pass over my two years' sojourn in 
Brazil with a sort of feverish retrospection. My 
experience was too pitiful, too tragically interest- 
ing, too prolonged, to come within the limits or 



50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

province of any ordinary nightmare. Looking 
back at it all, it may rather be likened to a chap- 
ter in Bunyan's famous allegory in which the pil- 
grim, encountering unexpected temptations and 
pitfalls, receives his first terrible set-back. Years 
of progressive enlightenment have doubtless bet- 
tered the situation in Brazil, from every point of 
view; but when I arrived in the country, in the 
late seventies, the social and moral environment 
in which I found myself, was simply indescribable. 
But in order to make my own conduct appear in a 
measure reasonable, and to account for the mental 
abyss into which I was finally plunged, I must run 
over a few of the events, and describe some of the 
conditions, as briefly as possible. 

The telegraph office was located in a great stone 
building which faced the harbor. The clerks, 
five or six of us, had sleeping-rooms in this block. 
The office work itself was pleasant, and the salaries 
of the men were quite liberal. It took me about a 
week to get an idea of the place, and a year's so- 
journ did not alter my first impressions. For a 
few hours during the morning there was consider- 
able business activity, but the afternoons were 
usually very quiet and intensely hot. The real life 
of the place opened up when the offices closed, 
and the sun went down. Then a carnival of drink- 
ing set in. In this the Europeans were the chief 
participants. The natives had their faults, but 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 51 

excess in drinking was not one of them. The 
friendly advice I received on my arrival, to get 
intoxicated and remain in that condition, if I 
would escape the yellow fever, was lived up to, 
so far as I could make out, by every one who 
could afford it. The arrival of a foreign warship, 
or of a man of note, called for international cour- 
tesies which frequently ended in midnight street 
brawls. 

The local police force was helpless at the hands 
of these roisterers; license was not confined to 
mere conviviality; in the midst of it all, women 
were a commodity. At intervals they were im- 
ported from Europe in batches and auctioned 
off in the saloons, under all sorts of contracts, to 
the highest bidder. Single men were by no means 
so abandoned as those who were married and had 
families. This, I was assured, was a proper and 
reasonable state of affairs. Society was more 
vitally interested in the rising generation than in 
the behavior of those who were no longer in the 
matrimonial market. 

For a month or so I moved up and down, as it 
were, in the midst of this social inferno. Then I 
went to Broadbent. I knew from observation 
that he was not much better than the crowd; 
nevertheless, I wanted to know what he thought 
about it all. The personal problem with which I 
was surrounded seemed to me to be overwhelm- 



52 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ingly important. Broadbent had told me on board 
ship that science, political and social economy, 
would take care of just such situations; but for 
the life of me, now that I was in the midst of this 
one, I could n't understand how these reforms and 
cures were to be initiated and kept alive without 
personal redemption, beginning within and bear- 
ing fruit in social and economic reforms. 

The people whose conduct I am criticizing were 
rich enough; they were intelligent, in a way, and 
could reason and talk about other people's ideas 
by the hour; but they lacked the acute moral 
sense which, in the aggregate, constitutes the 
social conscience. I could not help noticing at 
the time the close relationship that must always 
exist between personal and civic behavior. 

On some of the side streets dead and dying 
negroes were occasionally thrown out into the 
gutters. And again, one day I met a procession 
of smallpox patients, in all stages of the disease, 
dragging themselves through the public streets 
on the way to climb some Mount of Piety, to pray 
for intercession, while from the courtyards of 
every church in the city showers of rockets as- 
cended on prayerful missions, cracking the skies 
with an earsplitting din. 

I went to Broadbent, I say, with my troubles, 
but I soon discovered that in spite of his intellect- 
uality, he was nothing but a social degenerate. 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 53 

His conversation was one thing, his conduct was 
another. In so many words, "Eat and drink," 
he said to me, "for to-morrow we shall die." 
According to him, yellow fever was the cause and 
sufficient reason, scientifically speaking, for per- 
sonal depravity. It was indeed true that at inter- 
vals the scourge descended upon the city like a 
murrain among cattle. If there was anything in 
particular that was noticeable, it was its affinity 
for greenhorns, fresh arrivals, and clean people. 
Chronic drunkards, as a rule, were immune. 
Broadbent laid emphasis on these facts and one 
day, after explaining the situation in detail, he 
said to me in substance, — 

" Come along, be one of us. It is either this or 
death, or perhaps something worse than death. 
You know Fillimore, of course. He works beside 
you in the office. But you never entered his room, 
did you? To begin with, conditions frightened his 
moral and physical nature, as they have yours. 
He came from a nice home, I understand. A few 
drinks and a little companionship would have 
straightened him out, but we could n't get him 
to emerge from his shell. So now he comes down 
to the office in the morning, and sneaks back to 
his room in the afternoon, and in the evening he 
gets out into the suburbs and captures creeping 
things of every description. His room is alive 
with lizards and beetles and all kinds of reptiles 



54 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

running loose. His poisonous pets, such as tar- 
antulas, he keeps under glass covers. He does his 
own cooking on an oil stove. He has never venti- 
lated or cleaned his room. He is beyond the reach 
of the fever, for he is inconceivably filthy. He is 
everlastingly reading the Bible. Just think of it! 
This is what it is to be driven back on yourself in 
this forsaken country. You know what the alter- 
native is — take your choice. " 

This almost, but not quite, concluded my inter- 
course with Broadbent. I said to him, " I under- 
stand the situation, I hate your philosophy, I refuse 
to compromise. I, too, will fall back on myself." 

I kept the fact to myself, but to tell the truth, I 
was mentally and morally stunned. Broadbent 
had, at least, opened my eyes and given me a 
graphic description of the abyss of iniquity into 
which, with unabashed countenance, he invited 
me to plunge. Good people no doubt there were in 
that neighborhood, but I never met them or heard 
of them; and who could blame them, in such a 
maelstrom of depravity, for keeping aloof or in 
hiding. But the situation to me, at the time, was 
actually worse than it appears to be on the surface. 
This was my first introduction to business and 
social circles, and although I knew intuitively 
that in my own country, for example, social be- 
havior and conditions were on an infinitely higher 
level, I had as yet no practical assurances on the 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 55 

subject except as a schoolboy; and in this, my first 
plunge into business and social affairs, I found the 
representatives of nearly every European nation 
engaged in social orgies that would have been a 
disgrace to any community in the worst days of 
the Roman Empire. 

To tell the truth, I was terribly disappointed. 
The door through which my ambitions and aspir- 
ations pointed, seemed to shut with a bang. In a 
very short time, like Fillimore, I was in a class by 
myself, and to my surprise my religion had few 
consolations for me. Both religiously and soci- 
ally, for the time being at any rate, I was a palpa- 
ble misfit. My physical and moral enthusiasm 
had been stifled too suddenly. Inertia set in. 

For a week or more I went about my duties 
mechanically; otherwise I was as listless and unre- 
sponsive as the sands of the desert. Then an idea 
occurred to me. I could n't break my contract 
with the company, but I could go to work and 
learn some of the languages which up to this time, 
on the streets and elsewhere, I had been listening 
to with a dull ear. I immediately turned all 
my energies and enthusiasm in this direction. It 
proved to be a delightful and profitable occupation. 
I went about it almost fiercely. I penetrated into 
slums, offices, private houses, and clubs, hunting 
up words and meanings, and also people to con- 
verse with. One day I would bury myself in an 



56 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

underground kitchen with a Portuguese cook, and 
the next day, perhaps, I would take a San Paulo 
railroad train, get off at a way station, and spend 
an afternoon with an Indian in a canoe, learning 
the names of the birds, the trees, and the monkeys, 
as we glided through tangles of gorgeous foliage. 
For a stranger to be interested in one's native 
tongue is always a pleasing kind of flattery. Be- 
fore long I was welcomed everywhere. In less 
than six months, I could hold my own in ordinary 
conversation in Spanish, German, French, and 
Portuguese. I was just beginning to take some 
kind of interest in my surroundings, and to plan 
understandingly and hopefully for the future, 
when Broadbent again appeared on the scene, and 
scattered my projects to the winds. 

One day I sat at the dinner table in the hotel — 
the Europa. I was reading, or rather trying to 
read, out of a book. Chico, the waiter, had just 
left the room with an armful of dishes. My super- 
intendent, sleeping off the effects of his afternoon 
tipples, was in the next room, snoring ponder- 
ously. The guests had all departed and, but for 
the rats that now and then jumped up on the 
table and made off with a morsel of food, I was 
alone. It was the fever-time of the year, and as I 
was suffering from a bad headache I was a little 
uneasy about my physical condition; and, besides, 
I was at the lowest ebb of mental depression. The 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 57 

satisfaction I derived from my studies was, at 
best, a commercial one; otherwise, so far as pro- 
gress was concerned, I was absolutely a failure. 

It was my eighteenth birthday. The daylight 
was fading. I closed my book and, hearing a faint 
noise, I raised my eyes. Broadbent emerged from 
the superintendent's room, crossed the hallway, 
and hurried down the stairs. Tucked closely 
under his arm was the superintendent's hand-bag 
containing, as I well knew, the collections for the 
day — some thousands of milreis. I rushed after 
him down the stairway, and into the street. 
As I was turning the first corner, some one halted 
abruptly, or I ran into some one, who gave me a 
blow on the head that sent me sprawling into the 
gutter. 

When I awoke, I was in bed in the hotel. The 
room was crowded with policemen and others; 
Broadbent was among them. I accused him of 
committing the robbery. The police received this 
intelligence as a joke, everybody smiled, and some 
one remarked, "He is out of his head." Then a 
burly negro came forward and informed the 
police that in turning the corner I had interfered 
with a combat of clubs, in which he was engaged, 
and that I had received a whack on the head 
that was intended for his adversary. This explan- 
ation was entirely satisfactory to the police, al- 
though the money was not forthcoming. Then 



58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST , 

Broadbent almost shouted, "That boy has the 
yellow fever." 

In two seconds the room was deserted. I leave 
the problem of the headache and fever symptoms, 
the apparition of Broadbent on the stairway, the 
robbery, the affair at the corner of the street, and 
the statement of the negro, to psychologists to 
unravel. As for me, I lay on my cot absolutely 
deserted until noon the next day, when a doctor 
appeared. Later the boys in the office got together 
and sent a nurse to my assistance. At the end of 
the second day I entered the fatal stage, and 
began to sink rapidly. The coffin was ordered. 
Later on I paid for it. But doctors and others 
were mistaken. I fairly hovered on the brink, 
as they told me afterwards, and then made a most 
unlooked-for rally. In less than a week I was out 
of danger. Meantime, however, in a fit of delirium 
I had unmercifully belabored my nurse with a pil- 
low, and in her place a professional attendant was 
secured, a man whose name was Peixoto. 

I cannot introduce Peixoto to my readers with- 
out an apology or an explanation of some kind. 
Physically and mentally he was a strange phe- 
nomenon, in appearance and faculties an almost 
unbelievable creature. Mentally he was a modern 
reproduction of Timon of Athens, in his last and 
misanthropic stage. Later on we shall glance at 
his pedigree and history; for the present, however, 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 59 

it will suffice to say that he was an albino — 
neither a white nor a black man, but a cream- 
colored creature of medium height, athletic build, 
and dignified carriage. In his behavior as a nurse 
he was methodical and strong, yet as gentle and 
considerate as a woman. He had one curious 
habit. When not engaged in conversation, he 
nibbled incessantly on his lower lip, as any man 
will once in a while, when nursing a grief or an 
injury. Peixoto had both — he was a social out- 
cast. His hair was white, short, curly, and silky, 
and it grew in tufts; his nose was flat, his cheek- 
bones were high, and his skin a sickly cream-color. 
The pupils of his eyes were red, and the parts 
that should have been white were pink. Apart 
from this he possessed a tremendous personality, 
and that was just where the trouble came in. 
Brazilian society had no use for this man except 
as a caretaker in cases of virulent disease. This 
fact cut him to the soul, and all humanity was to 
him, very naturally, a gigantic farce. 

As regards my own sickness, complications set 
in, and I was confined to the hotel for nearly three 
months. During this period Peixoto was my con- 
stant companion. I was in my eighteenth year, 
physically and mentally a weakling at the time. 
Peixoto was in the prime of life. To convert me 
to his way of thinking and of judging humanity, 
he extended himself. In regard to what followed, 



60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

I have no excuse or justification to offer. For over 
two months I listened to, and absorbed, a good 
deal of Peixoto's philosophy. It was founded on 
the personal annihilation to which society and 
the universe had condemned him, and it all cul- 
minated in the homeless and hopeless conclusion 
that there was no God. Under his tutelage my 
religious convictions seemed to be smothered, al- 
though it was only a storm through which I was 
passing. Nevertheless, when I left the hotel I 
looked out upon the world, to some extent, 
through Peixoto's eyes. 

Meanwhile, Santos had become an impossible 
place of residence for me, and I requested and 
obtained a transfer to Bahia. In a few weeks 
Peixoto followed me. Bahia was his birthplace, 
to which, periodically, he was in the habit of re- 
turning. It was a time when all the world was talk- 
ing about the discovery of gold and diamonds in 
South Africa. Peixoto was seriously considering 
emigration to that country, where, he thought, 
among the savages, perhaps he would be able to 
find some kind of a social level; or where, at the 
worst, as a filibuster or freebooter, he could square 
accounts with creation in some way. 

One day Peixoto and I took a walk, or rather a 
climb, from the lower to the upper city. As you 
look at it from the sea, Bahia has the appearance 
of a huge perpendicular rock. Some of the houses 



LIFE PROBLEMS IN SOUTH AMERICA 61 

seem to be up among the clouds, others down at 
the water's edge. Peixoto conducted me, by a cir- 
cuitous route, to a convent situated in a narrow 
street in the upper section of the city. In this 
convent, he explained to me, he had been brought 
up and educated. 

We entered the convent through an imposing 
archway, and passed into a large granite-walled 
hall, at one end of which was a heavily barred 
grating, and back of that a smooth stone pave- 
ment extending to another grating through which 
several nuns were passing garlands and flowers 
made of feathers, on long wooden shovels, to pur- 
chasers who made their wants known by long- 
distance signs at the outer grating. Thence we 
passed into a small chapel which had egress to the 
outside world by means of a long and very gloomy 
corridor. In one corner of the chapel there was a 
little niche or alcove in which was a cradle-shaped 
box. A rope attached to this cradle passed up 
through a wide chimney-like aperture to some 
chamber above. Peioxto explained to me in detail 
the significance of this machinery. The cradle 
was for the accommodation of abandoned children 
whom, with utmost secrecy, the depositors, or 
parents, wished the convent to adopt and educate. 
In this way, and in this very place, he, Peixoto, 
had made his first appearance in human society, 
and this was practically all he knew of his own 
history and antecedents. 



62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

Very soon after this visit to the convent Peixoto 
took ship for South Africa. I was fated to meet 
him again. It was several years later, in the midst 
of a fierce campaign which the British and their 
allies, the Zwasi Kaffirs, were waging against 
another Kaffir chieftain in the northern part of 
the Transvaal. Peixoto was in the service of the 
Zwasis. On the day of the final assault on the 
stronghold of the enemy, after the British had 
dynamited the caves, it became his duty, as he 
informed me, to intercept the survivors, stab 
them, and throw them down over the rocks. He 
was settling his account with creation in this way. 
But this is anticipating. I must return to the 
narrative of my own personal progress. 



Ill 

TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 



At the outset of my third chapter I wish to 
emphasize the fact that I am doing my best to 
write, not simply the ups and downs of a some- 
what adventurous career, but the plain history of 
a passion. 

In the preceding sections of my story I have 
given a rough yet definite description of the soil in 
which this passion was planted, and of its mani- 
festations and behavior when first it became con- 
scious of its surroundings in the Highlands of 
Scotland. I have described the contact of my in- 
dividualistic spirit with men and events when 
I was about to leave home; later, on board ship; 
and finally, during a sojourn of two years in South 
America. Before concluding the story of my expe- 
riences in South America, however, a final incident 
remains to be noticed. 

Applying its lessons to my own progress, the 
story relates specifically to the character and influ- 
ence of women. My experience in such matters 
has been somewhat unusual. For one thing, I can 
just remember my mother on her death-bed. As 



64 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

a moral handicap the significance of this fact is 
immeasurable. Then, again, there were no girls in 
our family, no sisters for companions or play- 
mates. 

Let the reasons be what they may, as I grew up, 
I consistently avoided female society. But this 
instinctive disinclination for the society of girls 
and women was accompanied by the most spirit- 
ual ideas in regard to their personalities and influ- 
ence. My youthful and well-remembered conclu- 
sions on the subject are plain as plain can be. As 
a growing boy it never occurred to me that any 
girl or woman of my acquaintance could possibly 
be less than perfect in the workings of her heart, 
in the details of her daily occupation, or in mat- 
ters that related to her mission as a sex. My 
attitude at the time may be summed up in two 
mottoes: "I worship," and, "I serve." 

But there comes to every mortal a time when 
youthful dreams must submit themselves to all 
sorts of practical and spiritual tests. In my case, 
the first clash was perhaps the most memorable 
event in which my personality has ever been 
called upon to take part. On the occasion to 
which I refer, I just happened to get close enough 
to the heart of a woman to enable me to under- 
stand a little of its fundamental character. It is 
one of those unforgettable links that still connect 
this most absorbing of life problems with my boy- 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 65 

ish dreams. It was shortly after my arrival in 
Bahia from Santos. She was a married woman. 
This fact, to me at the time, had not the slightest 
significance. I made her acquaintance on board 
ship, on the way over from Europe. She was then 
the young bride of one of my fellow clerks. Unfor- 
tunately he was the flimsiest kind of a fellow, and 
six months of life in Bahia were sufficient to carry 
him well along on the highway to perdition. On 
my arrival in Bahia I knew nothing about this 
state of affairs. However, when I heard that the 
family were in trouble I determined to call, and 
after a while I found them in poorly furnished 
quarters in what was then known as the upper city. 

At the time of my first visit the husband was in 
jail and the young wife was taking care of her 
baby girl and trying to keep body and soul to- 
gether with the assistance of a boarder or two. 
Within a few days I, too, as a boarder, was ad- 
mitted into the family circle. 

Readers perhaps will imagine that I am about to 
give a simple variation of an old story. Be this as 
it may, the significance of the experience to me 
personally was incalculable. 

With my advent the young wife seemed to ac- 
quire a fresh supply of courage. We soon became 
attached to each other in a quiet, sociable way, 
which easily led to the exchanging of confidences. 
Apart from her expressed gratitude, I knew abso- 



66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

lutely nothing about her affections, except as they 
shone in her face and were manifested in her 
motherly devotion. And yet it is true that as the 
days went by the situation developed most de- 
lightfully in impossible directions, as it were, un- 
til the current of other affairs hurried it along to a 
climax. 

Before leaving Santos I had written home to 
make inquiries in regard to the situation and 
prospects in South Africa, and very soon I re- 
ceived word that arrangements had been made 
which would enable me to join a party of young 
fellows who intended to leave England on a cer- 
tain date. Finally the time came for me to pack up 
and take leave. 

So one morning I prepared to walk out of my 
boarding-house for the last time. To me the oc- 
casion, in minutest detail, is unforgettable. In 
thinking it all over from a distance, one recog- 
nizes, with a clearer understanding than at the 
time, the significance of such events in the life- 
journey of the individual. Every once in a while 
in their lives people focus in this way and take 
stock of spiritual progress. The picture in my 
mind of the final scene and leave-taking is some- 
thing like this : — 

A ladder of houses on a cliff -like street. The 
city sparkling in the first glow of the early morn- 
ing sun. The harbor beneath, and, in the distance, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 67 

dotted with ships. Inside, a home, a flower-decked 
parlor, a child in a high chair pounding lustily on 
the table with little fists. The young mother sor- 
row-tossed, yet struggling to speak cheerfully. 
The face pale as pale can be, yet gentle and firm 
beyond description. The hand extended, and the 
words "Good-bye" at the point of utterance. 
Then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the 
features relax, tears stream, and the little body 
collapses. Just enough strength was left to enable 
her to rush from the room. 

As for me, I stood there like a fool, bereft of mo- 
tion, almost of thought. Quickly, however, I came 
to my senses. A situation hitherto undreamed of, 
yet actually rehearsed for two or three months in 
simplest everyday intercourse, dawned upon me. 
From her side and mine, all at once, I understood. 
I realized that to prolong my stay, or to call her 
back, would be sacrilege. Nevertheless, even to- 
day, I cannot easily account to myself for what fol- 
lowed. I turned to leave the house, and then the 
unutterable dilemma in my heart took refuge in 
action. I opened my purse and counted out upon 
the table, in sovereigns, the half of its contents. 
And that was the end of it all. 

n 

The scene now changes to South Africa. But 
before I begin the narrative of my travels and ex- 



68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

perience in that country, a word or two should be 
said regarding my aim and intentions in steering 
my course in such a strange direction. 

To begin with, of course, there was the roving, 
adventurous spirit tucked away in my heredity, 
added to the disgust which I had acquired for my 
life and surroundings in South America. Then, 
again, there was the ever-present necessity of 
earning a living somehow and somewhere; and on 
top of all these considerations there came an en- 
thusiastic invitation from a brother who was al- 
ready in Africa, and who, at the time he wrote, was 
doing remarkably well at the Pilgrim's Rest Gold- 
Fields. Just what I was going to do when I got 
there was to be left altogether to circumstances. 

In the second place, a preliminary word or two 
of explanation is due in regard to the period at 
which I appeared on the African scene; and a very 
brief sketch or reminder of a few of the histori- 
cal events which signalized this period and with 
which, here and there, I was in close touch, will 
certainly not be out of place. 

In those days there were no railroads either in 
Natal or the Transvaal, and the ox-wagon was the 
most important single feature of African life. The 
Transvaal Republic, when first I entered the ter- 
ritory in the year 1877, was in a state of commer- 
cial and political anarchy, principally from a lack 
of funds necessary to enable the farmers to con- 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 69 

tinue their campaign against the Kaffirs. Presid- 
ent Burgers and his executive were in despair and 
the Republic was in a state of hopeless bankruptcy 
when, on April 12, 1877, at Pretoria, Sir Theo- 
philus Shepstone, armed with the necessary au- 
thority from the British Government, annexed 
the country as British territory. 

The return of more prosperous conditions, how- 
ever, aroused the Boers to renewed consciousness 
of their political subjection, and very soon, under 
the stupid and autocratic handling of the situa- 
tion by British administrators, the old sores were 
reopened, and the war-spirit, nursed by the cau- 
tious and astute policy of Paul Kruger, who was 
at the head of the new movement, spread from 
farm to farm until it was fearlessly supported by 
nine tenths of the population. 

At intervals following the annexation in 1877, 
came the Zulu War, which included the disaster 
at Isandlwana, the death of Prince Napoleon, the 
victory of Ulundi, and the capture of Cetewayo. 
Then, later, the campaign against the Kaffir chief, 
Sekukuni, in the north of the Transvaal, was un- 
dertaken, and this again was followed in 1880 by 
the outbreak of the first Boer war of Independ- 
ence, with the battle of Majuba Hill, and the re- 
cession of the Transvaal to the Boers by the 
Gladstone Government, in 1881. 

It was at the beginning of this string of histori- 



70 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

cal events that I made my way into the Trans- 
vaal, and in the midst of these scenes I lived and 
moved about for over three years among the 
Boers and the Kaffirs. 

While the events I have mentioned had but 
little direct connection with me and my fortunes, 
they form a sort of historical framework inside of 
which I moved up and down and formed personal 
opinions in regard to policies and peoples. In 
order to emphasize my personal relationship to 
these affairs and to these peoples, I think the best 
way will be to give a series of detached pictures of 
my African life and experience and to comment 
upon them by the way. 

Ill 

On the journey from South America to the 
Transvaal I halted for a day or two in Cape 
Town. Then I moved northward and spent a few 
weeks in the colony of Natal, where I happened to 
meet two men who took more than a passing in- 
terest in me and my problems. The first was 
Rider Haggard. At that time he was secretary to 
the governor. Haggard, like myself, was then in 
the making stage, and already his conversation 
was bristling with the "He," "She," and "Jess" 
of his novels. With Haggard's assistance I re- 
ceived an introduction to one of the most notable 
men of the period in that or any other country, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 71 

Bishop Colenso. He was one of those persecuted 
forerunners of religious liberty. At the same time 
he was universally recognized as the great peace- 
loving arbitrator between the Kaffirs, the Boers, 
and the British. Three or four times I met him at 
his home, amid dream-like surroundings, flowers 
and hedgerows and gorgeous vegetation, a grand 
old man with a retinue of stately ring-crowned 
Zulus for servitors and errand boys. He seemed 
to be devoting his declining years to the material 
and spiritual interests of a little village of dark- 
skinned mission children. For the first time in 
my life, I met a man who listened to my story, 
gave me much practical and spiritual advice, and 
sent me on my way with renewed courage. 

At this point in my narrative I may as well say 
that, in my mind at the time, my personal mission 
in Africa was clearly understood. At the first en- 
counter, in South America especially, Society and 
I had made the poorest kind of connection. The 
rough-and-tumble childhood, the religion of John 
Knox, the discipline of the "taws," and the ster- 
ling influence of vigorous and healthy environ- 
ment in youth, had received a palpable setback. 
Hitherto Society had been confining me in many 
ways; I was anxious to grow in a physical direc- 
tion especially, and for that reason the prospect 
of a few years in Africa appealed to me. At the 
same time, both intellectually and religiously, I 



72 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

was holding my own. While I still remained stead- 
fast to religious fundamentals, the meaning of re- 
ligion in my mind, as well as its centre of gravity, 
was changing. 

Of course, apart from this philosophy of life, 
there was, at all times, the problem of my ma- 
terial interests. Never in my life, however, have I 
had any schemes for the accumulation of money, 
and least of all while I was in Africa. I was pos- 
sessed with a craving for knowledge, excitement, 
and personal expression. My mind was twenty 
years ahead of my experience. The problem for 
me would have been the same in any country — 
it was simply to find myself. In Africa as in South 
America I continued to follow my individualistic 
programme, and it must not be forgotten that my 
conclusions in regard to people and conditions 
were derived not from philosophy or reading, but 
from a discussion of live issues at camp-fires with 
indignant Kaffirs whose kraals had been sacked, 
and on wagon-seats with sturdy Boers whose 
everlasting theme was personal and national 
independence. 

I can only refer in passing to the period of my 
initiation among these African scenes and people. 
In five or six months to become fairly expert in 
handling a wagon-whip and in spanning oxen, in 
horsemanship, hunting and rifle-shooting, and 
roughing it in general, was a very simple process 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 73 

for a fellow at my age; but to become conversa- 
tionally at home among Kaffirs and Boers, and to 
a slight extent among Hottentots and tongue- 
snapping or ' click '-speaking Bushmen, in a little 
over a year, was an achievement that can be 
comprehended only by those who possess a most 
retentive memory, and who from childhood have 
been passionately diligent and inquisitive in the 
study of languages. To me in Africa, this facility 
in languages was not only an ever-present and all- 
absorbing occupation, — it proved also to be the 
point of contact, sympathetically taken advant- 
age of in every way, that enabled me to get un- 
usually close to the hearts and the homes of those 
peoples, both black and white. 

As illustrations of my African experiences I 
have in mind a number of characteristic scenes or 
word-pictures. The first is that of a transport- 
rider or wagon-driver. With a wagon and a span 
of sixteen or eighteen oxen, at different times I 
took loads of merchandise from the coast across 
the Free State or the Transvaal, to Kimberley, 
Pretoria, or the Gold Fields. In those early days a 
trip of this description in dry weather over the 
flats, which in places were simply black with 
herds of blesboks, gnus, and zebras, was a sort of 
long-continued picnic; but when you got into the 
swamps, or breasted a range of mountains, it soon 
turned into a heroic and sometimes into a desper- 



74 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ate undertaking. Then it became a supreme test 
of lungs and limbs and courage. Winding up 
through dangerous gorges and over rocky heights, 
this creaking Transvaal buck- wagon, the forerun- 
ner of civilization, dragged its perilous way. Its 
string of straining and panting oxen, every back 
on the hump, every nose within an inch of the 
ground, goaded to the limit of exertion by the re- 
verberating cracks of a forty-foot whip, was, to 
me, an important element in a scene of physical 
splendor. And then at sundown, when we out- 
spanned our cattle, cooked our food, smoked our 
pipes, and discussed the day's doings round the 
camp-fires with Boers and Kaffirs from other 
wagons, as they happened to visit us, I, at any 
rate, amid these scenes, soon became aware that 
Nature herself had taken me in hand, and that 
there was room in my heart for all manner of hu- 
man sympathies; and that certainly, if I could 
have had my way, the whites and the blacks in 
South Africa would have worked out their social 
and political problems without a suspicion of 
bloodshed. But the collective interests of nations 
look upon Africa in a different light. I was soon 
led to observe that, so far as Africa was con- 
cerned, the interests of human society on the 
whole, and ideas of social justice in particular, 
were represented for the most part by shiploads 
of rum and rifles, by the debauching of Kaffir life, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 75 

the almost fiendish search for gold and diamonds, 
and the harrying of the Boers from the Cape to 
the Zambesi. 

On my first trip with a wagon and oxen I 
shipped as a sort of " dead-head," learning the 
business. My second venture was with my own 
outfit. The route, with a load of miscellaneous 
merchandise, was from Durban in Natal to Beth- 
lehem in the Orange Free State. I hired a driver 
for the trip, a good-natured mission Kaffir. His 
name was Grumpy. He could handle a whip, cook 
a meal, speak English after a fashion, swear, 
drink, and steal upon occasion with the best of his 
profession. In the matter of stealing, however, he 
drew the line at his own master. To me he was in- 
corruptibly honest. So far as cheating and gen- 
eral iniquity were concerned, he never tired of re- 
minding me that he had been educated in a school 
of experts, that is, of white men. I shall never for- 
get the first time Grumpy reminded me of this 
fact. His first month's wages consisted of a hand- 
ful of silver coins, among which there happened 
to be a florin, that is, a two-shilling piece. Taking 
my ignorance for granted, he held the coin up be- 
fore me and looked at if half sneeringly, as if it 
contained a dangerous or snake-like quality. Then 
grinning from ear to ear he said, "Baas, that's a 
Scotchman." Of course I demanded an explana- 
tion, and his story substantially was as follows : — 



76 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

"When I was still at my kraal in Swaziland, a 
number of years ago, the boys coming home from 
the Diamond Field brought news that they had 
been cheated. You must understand," Grumpy 
explained, "our boys are particularly fond of sil- 
ver coins. Bulk means a good deal in Kaffirland. 
In buying cows and swapping them for wives there 
is nothing like a heap of silver coins to count and 
shuffle and squabble about. But you see, Baas, at 
that time the green Kaffirs did n't understand the 
difference in value, or notice the difference in size, 
between a florin and a half-crown piece. Well, 
once upon a time, hundreds of these Kaffir boys 
had been working all winter long, road-making 
and trench-digging near Kimberley, and when the 
time came, the contractor, who was a Scotchman, 
paid them their wages for the most part in florins, 
but counted them as half-crown pieces, and pock- 
eted the difference. When the trick was discovered 
the contractor had departed. But Kaffirs never 
forget an injury of this kind; consequently, ever 
since, through the length and breadth of Kaffir- 
land, a florin is known as a Scotchman." 

Before long Grumpy and I became fast friends, 
and not once did he abuse the trust I placed in 
him. In posting me on the geography of the coun- 
try, on the methods of handling the oxen, and on 
the other details of wagon-life, his services were 
invaluable. At the same time no schoolmaster 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 77 

could possibly have been more patient or have 
taken more pleasure in explaining to me the 
proper intonation and meaning of words in his 
Kaffir vocabulary. 

Grumpy and his companions were great smok- 
ers. On the trek at night, after the oxen had been 
securely fastened to the yokes, it was customary 
for the boys to construct in the soil a sort of tun- 
nel about two inches high and ten or twelve feet in 
length and fill it with water. At one end the pipe- 
bowl was inserted, at the other end the mouth- 
piece. Then the boys, lying flat on their stomachs, 
rolled over in turns and inhaled great gulps of the 
intoxicating fumes. At such times, after I came to 
understand their language in some degree, I de- 
lighted to retire to my bunk on top of the wagon- 
load and listen, sometimes until midnight, to the 
orations, all about terrible fights and prodigious 
feasts, with which the boys regaled each other be- 
tween their turns at the pipe. 

But this first trip into the Free State with 
Grumpy as factotum was particularly memorable 
on account of an unfortunate experience on my 
first hunting expedition. 

We had successfully scaled the Drakensburg 
Mountains and were encamped one afternoon at a 
drift of the Wilge River, when a couple of Boers 
came along and invited me to go hunting with 
them for an hour or two. I possessed a good rifle 



78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

and a splendid shooting pony, so without delay 
we set out in search of the game. And game 
enough there was, to be sure. We were hardly out 
of sight of our wagons when, cantering over a 
"rise," we came in plain view of a great herd of 
blesbok, the head of the column close at hand, 
with a long string behind it stretching out, it 
seemed, for miles, clear to the horizon. Catching 
sight of us, the mass as with one accord got under 
way and, headed by a number of leaders, tore 
across the veldt directly in front of us in a terrific 
stampede. My companions knew just what to do 
under the circumstances, and before I had suf- 
ficiently recovered from the excitement of the gal- 
lop to be able to aim straight, five or six of the 
animals had already succumbed to their skillful 
marksmanship. It was my first hunt and I sup- 
pose I was crazy with excitement; nevertheless, 
ever since I have always been heartily ashamed of 
my almost fiendish behavior that afternoon as 
a sportsman. I had always supposed that if 
I should fire deliberately at a house or a mountain, 
I could manage to hit it in some way. But after fir- 
ing shot after shot as fast as I could ram the cart- 
ridges into my rifle, at a solid mass of galloping 
blesboks, I soon began to wonder what on earth 
had become of the bullets. Apart from the bles- 
boks there was actually nothing in sight to aim at 
but the sky. 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 79 

Meanwhile the Boers, continuing the hunt in 
their own way, aiming at animals, not at herds, 
had galloped off in different directions while the 
bewildered blesboks, cut up into panic-stricken 
squadrons by the galloping hunters, were tearing 
across the plains in different directions, for all the 
world like so many vanishing dust-storms. In less 
than ten minutes from the time the herd had been 
sighted I stood alone on the veldt at the side of 
my horse, bemoaning my luck, and pondering on 
the next move. 

But no, I was not alone after all. On a hillock 
some two hundred yards away I sighted a solitary 
bull blesbok. He was calmly surveying me and 
my pony in the most inquisitive manner. " Going 
to drop dead in a minute or two," I said to my- 
self. So I waited. I had only one cartridge left in 
my belt and I might need that, I soliloquized, to 
kill something else on the way back to the wagons. 
But it seems the old ram on the hillock had plans 
of his own, for suddenly he wheeled round and 
ambled slowly away, whipping the air with a 
broken and dangling hind leg. In a second I was 
in the saddle and after him. But the faster I gal- 
loped, the nimbler the old buck became on his 
three legs. I could scarcely believe my senses. 
He could trot and "triple" and gallop at will. 
But if I could n't shoot straight, I had learned as 
a boy to ride anything and everything in the shape 



80 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

of a horse, and on this occasion my pony was a 
jewel of his kind. If I could remember them I 
should certainly be ashamed to give the details of 
that first African gallop across the veldt, dodging 
a labyrinth of holes, ant-hills, and boulders. It 
was a cruel errand. That pony was wing-footed, 
eagle-eyed, and remorseless; the game old blesbok, 
lumbering along ahead of us and now at last eas- 
ing up a little, was doomed. In the end he sim- 
ply halted, faced us, and awaited our approach. 
The tragedy was then completed with my last 
bullet. 

But the end of the adventure was not yet. The 
primitive methods whereby in the dusk of the 
evening I beheaded and skinned that animal 
would better not be described. Let it suffice to 
say that in a few minutes I started on my return 
to the wagons with the hide and the hind quar- 
ters of the blesbok securely fastened behind my 
saddle. 

But I had never given a thought to the course 
I had taken in my gallop across the veldt. I kept 
on and on, and before long it grew dark and some- 
what cold. So I dismounted, and after thinking it 
over, I knee-haltered the horse and let him go, 
crept head first into a large ant-bear hole for a 
night's lodging, and made myself as comfortable 
as was possible under the circumstances, using the 
blesbok hide for a blanket. 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 81 

The night was dark as pitch. Sleep was out of 
the question. I suppose that it was the haunches 
and the raw hide that attracted the creatures, but 
before long it really seemed as if I had settled 
down in a village of wild pigs and insulted the 
whole community. To begin with, squeaking inces- 
santly, they seemed to be racing round and round 
in a circle, taking me for its centre. Then a num- 
ber of jackals, drawing nearer and nearer, joined 
in the chorus. But I soon discovered that if I dis- 
liked the noise I fairly dreaded the silence. Dur- 
ing the quiet spells I knew that something was 
chewing industriously at the projecting ends of 
the raw hide in which I was enveloped. It was 
hard work for me to keep kicking incessantly, but 
whenever I rested for a minute the chewing devel- 
oped into vigorous and vicious tugs, the signi- 
ficance of which it was easy for one in my position 
to appreciate. 

However, I kicked the night through in safety, 
and early in the morning, to my delight, I found 
my horse a short distance away, nibbling con- 
tentedly at his breakfast. 

My troubles, however, were by no means ended. 
I spent the day as I had the evening before, wan- 
dering on and on without sighting a farmhouse or 
a scrap of a road. Luckily I had some matches, 
and at noon I built a fire and had some blesbok 
steak to eat, and when night came again, the blaze 



82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

I made kept the jackals and pigs at a distance. The 
following day, the third after leaving my wagons, 
I was rescued in a curious manner. 

Approaching a "krantz" or stony hillock, I was 
leading my horse through the high grass, when 
suddenly right in front of me up jumped a little 
bit of a Bushman boy about three feet high, and 
scampered away in the direction of the krantz. 
Then I noticed something like a tent on the hill- 
side, behind which the little oddity took refuge. 
In another minute I found myself in the presence 
of a Bushman and his wife. They were of the half- 
domesticated variety. The man could speak a 
few Dutch words and I had little difficulty in ex- 
plaining my situation. He belonged to a Free 
State Boer, but at the time was on a pilgrimage of 
some kind and had halted for the day to doctor a 
snake-bite from which he was suffering. After 
loading their stomachs with my blesbok meat, 
I set out again with the Bushman as guide. Just 
before sundown we came in sight of our wagons. 
Grumpy had no difficulty in persuading me that 
for two days I must have been wandering round 
in a circle. 

My next picture has the Boers for its centre- 
piece. For a while, after I had made sufficient 
money at the "transport" business to enable me 
to trade a little on my own account, I made my 
headquarters in the Komati district on a farm, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 83 

the property of a man named Prinsloo. I was trad- 
ing at the time and making trips in different di- 
rections. In all that region, where the Steyn, the 
Joubert, and the Botha families predominated and 
at a later date became renowned for their patriot- 
ism, there was no such hater and baiter of the 
British as this man Prinsloo. And not without 
reason. Being too old himself for active service, 
he made up for it by perpetually rehearsing his 
exploits and experience to the rising generation 
and inspiring it with his heroic spirit. 

In the struggle in South Africa, both past and 
to come, the individuality of these rugged farm- 
ers was at stake. As the Boer looked at it, and 
very reasonably, on the one side there were busi- 
ness and imperial interests, backed up by humbug 
diplomacy; and on his own side there were the 
simple issues of his home and his national exist- 
ence. Old man Prinsloo was not only saturated 
with traditions and experiences of what he called 
British tyranny, but his own family had a per- 
sonal grievance of the bitterest nature. He was by 
no means blind to the benefits of civilization, and 
being fairly well educated, he had, in an evil day, 
sent his daughter to some private establishment 
at the Cape, to be educated. It happened to be a 
garrison town of some kind, where the red-coats 
were continually coming and going. He lost track 
of his child and that is all the outside world knew 



84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

about the case; but everybody understood what 
had happened, and what was happening to young 
girls all over the world, especially in small out-of- 
the-way communities where scarlet jackets were 
in camp or garrison. I have heard Africander wo- 
men allude to it under their breath as "the curse 
of the redcoats.' ' With this private affair added 
to the national issue, Prinsloo's rage against the 
British was simply titanic. 

But to do justice to him and to account, in a 
measure, for my personal estimate and impres- 
sions of these Boers, I will direct attention to an- 
other side of his character. 

One evening while I was encamped on the high 
veldt which, on their long trips from the Kaffir 
Lands to the Diamond Fields, hundreds of natives 
were at all times crossing, the weather took a most 
unusual turn. It was in the spring of the year, 
when all over these fire-swept and blackened flats 
little tufts of green grass were beginning to sprout. 
The game from the Bush Lands was arriving in 
long strings and small herds, and traveling away 
to the southward. On the evening in question a 
snowstorm of unexampled severity — in fact 
snowstorms were almost unheard of in that part 
of the country — swept over these high lands. 
That night, old as he was, Prinsloo drove round 
among the farms in the district and collected a 
large party of his friends and relations. About 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 85 

one o'clock in the morning the party arrived at 
my encampment. For the most part the men 
were on horseback, but there were also two or 
three cape carts loaded with fuel and kettles and 
coffee. A medley of voices aroused me from slum- 
ber with cries for blankets and coffee, with which 
they knew I was well supplied. Then Prinsloo 
himself jerked aside the canvas, curtain from the 
end of the wagon and explained to me that the 
Kaffirs on the Kimberley highroad, a couple of 
miles away, were huddling together in heaps and 
freezing to death by the score. 

It did not take the party long to get under way 
again. Before morning every Boer in the district 
was on the scene. The rescue of these naked un- 
fortunates on that snow-covered highway by 
Prinsloo and his followers is the most pathetic and 
one of the most humanly gratifying of my African 
memories. 

But to return to the Prinsloo farm. One day 
I returned from a short trip on horseback and 
alighted at the farmhouse door. Prinsloo himself 
came out and assisted me in caring for my horse. 
For some time I had been trying to sell him 
something or other, but on this occasion, when 
I broached the subject as we were entering the 
house, he dismissed the matter with the laconic 
reply, " After the war, my boy, after the war." 
The expression "After the war," was as old as the 



86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

first trek of the Boers northward from the Cape 
Colony. It came in very handy in the common 
affairs of life. For want of a better expression or 
excuse, domestic arrangements, building opera- 
tions, or perhaps hunting trips and such like, year 
in and year out, were being postponed until "after 
the war." In this way its absolute certainty was 
forever kept in the minds of the people. It was a 
sort of perpetual echo that had floated down the 
years from that never-to-be-forgotten day at 
Slaghters Nek in the Free State, when a number 
of Boer prisoners had been strung up like crimin- 
als, and their wives had been dragged to the scene 
to witness the execution, as a lesson, it was said, 
to future generations. Among children the words 
must have filtered into the blood somehow. One 
day I asked a little mite of a patriot to run on an 
errand for me. He said he thought his mother 
might not approve of his doing so. Personally, 
however, he did n't object, and while he would n't 
do it just then, he hoped to be able to earn a few 
pennies from the "red-necks" in this way, "after 
the war." 

However, Prinsloo and I stepped into the house 
and found therein quite a company of young 
Boers, sipping coffee and smoking their pipes. I 
understood in an instant that important business 
was being discussed, and it did not take Prinsloo 
long to enlighten me. I had barely taken my seat, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 87 

when out it came, straight from the shoulder 
somewhat in this way : — 

"Look here, young man," he began, "some of 
these fellows say they like you; they think you are 
to be trusted. At any rate, when you sell us any- 
thing we usually get what we bargain for, which is 
no small recommendation. But what I have to 
tell you now is that affairs in our country have 
just about come to a head, and as you have seen a 
good deal and know a good deal about our cause 
in this district, you must now get out on five 
minutes' notice, or swear in, do you understand? 
Swearing in," he continued, "doesn't mean that 
you will be commanded to fight for us, but simply 
that you must come under the Boer rule: keep 
your mouth shut, and help us in any other way 
you may choose." 

Under these conditions it did n't take me long 
to "swear in." 

That same night there was a big gathering of 
Boers in that neighborhood. It was nearly mid- 
night when they separated. On the following day 
a column of redcoats on the main wagon-road to 
Pretoria was attacked at Bronkhurst Spruit by 
Boers coming from nearly every direction. The 
British force was practically annihilated. Even 
old man Prinsloo was satisfied. This was the be- 
ginning of the first Boer struggle for independ- 
ence in 1880. 



88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

The next is a scene from Kaffirland. I make no 
apologies for my defense of the Kaffirs. My ad- 
miration for these people at that time is easily 
understood. The original human stamp was 
there, and you could study its manifestations to 
your heart's desire. I confess that I was ignorant 
at the time, and lacking in social experience; 
nevertheless, I was mentally at war with the 
artificialities and barbarities of civilization, and 
I found much in these unadulterated Kaffirs to 
renew my faith in human effort and human 
sympathies. 

Some time before Sir Garnet Wolseley ap- 
peared upon the scene and burned their villages, 
dynamited their caves, and, with the help of his 
Zwasi allies, massacred the population, I was one 
day swapping salt for Kaffir corn at the "stadt" 
or town of a powerful chief of the Maccatees. His 
name, I think, was Mampoor. As this was the 
third or fourth visit I had made to this kraal, 
I had the run of the place, and was on friendly 
terms with the chief. On the occasion I am now 
trying to describe he was seated, or rather squat- 
ting, in front of his hut. He was one of the finest- 
looking specimens I ever saw of what was called a 
refugee Zulu Kaffir, tall, light-skinned, stalwart, 
and heavily fleshed. He knew how to combine 
business with pleasure by methods unheard of in 
civilized circles. At his side, jabbering inces- 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 89 

santly, was a buxom intombi or maiden. She was 
next in order as his bride-elect. Once in a while 
the huge frame of the chief quivered and gave a 
sort of a chuckle as he happened to catch and en- 
joy one of her flattering remarks. But his atten- 
tion, for the most part, was concentrated on the 
eloquence of three or four old men, minor chiefs 
or indunas, who were squatting on the ground in 
front of him. 

These old men were trying to persuade the chief 
to provide an extra ox or two for the grand cere- 
mony that was to take place in the afternoon. It 
is the picture of this ceremony, with its lessons of 
courage, endurance, and loyalty, that I wish now 
to describe, to account in a measure for the fas- 
cination which, I confess, Kaffir life had for me at 
the time. 

In the centre of the town was a sort of com- 
mon, or large inclosure. At the time I entered, 
inside the palisades, in a dense ring round the 
edges, the whole population of the town was 
massed. In a reserved centre space, a huge sacri- 
ficial ox stood at bay within a ring of glittering 
assegais. Squatted on the ground at a short dis- 
tance from the nose of the animal was the royal 
butcher, horribly painted and befeathered. He 
was addressing the animal and telling him, in fit- 
ful screams, just what he was going to do to him 
later on, and once in a while the butcher changed 



90 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

his tone to a whine, and implored his victim, when 
he felt the tickle of the assegai in his heart, not to 
get excited about it, but to take his time and to 
fall in such and such a way, with nose upturned 
to the wide sky, in order that the omens might 
be lucky, and the flesh untainted. 

And just then, amid a terrific din of kettle- 
drums and the shouts of thousands, the boys 
themselves, glittering and handsome, brandishing 
their first spears and shields, entered the arena in 
long procession. The feast was in their honor. 
Their young hearts were filled with joy and tri- 
umph. The period of trial and purification was 
over. For a whole moon period they had been out 
among the rocks on the mountain-side, for the 
most part hungry and thirsty and blanketless. 
Their taskmasters had never let up on them for 
one minute. They had been drilled and buffeted, 
hammered with knob-kerries and pricked with 
assegais and hardened up to the very acme of 
daring and endurance. They were now to enter 
manhood, and nothing remained but the triumph 
and the feasting. One after another these war- 
bedecked young warriors jumped out of the pro- 
cession into the arena and with frantic gestures 
and marvelous limb-play told the assembly, in 
passionate language, just what it is to be manly 
and dexterous and stout-hearted. Each one in 
turn was applauded. 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 91 

The young girls, here and there in bunches, 
were jabbering incessantly and bubbling over with 
delight, while a number of old hags, doubled up, 
dried up, crooked beyond conception, and crazy 
with excitement, ambled around the arena in 
weird and trance-like gyrations. Then suddenly 
the centre space was cleared of everything but the 
ox and the dancing butcher. The assegai flashed 
in the sunlight, and the feast was on. 

For reasons, then, which may or may not be 
apparent to my readers, I was in sympathy with 
those dissatisfied Boers and those heathenish 
Kaffirs. In my ignorance of, or dissatisfaction 
with Society, I suppose I failed to appreciate 
the forced relationship that, practically speaking, 
existed and exists between profession and expe- 
diency. My mind, at the time, was honestly 
crammed with precepts, proverbs, texts, and old 
saws about liberty, the pursuit of happiness, 
human rights and property rights; and with 
these fundamentals forever buzzing in my brain, 
I could not, for the life of me, account for the 
conduct of Europeans in Africa. From my point 
of view, then, with Christianity as a background, 
the excuse for the African wars was reduced to the 
simple objections of the ordinary traveler, that 
the Kaffir, as a rule, lacked soap, and the Boer, as 
a rule, forgot to shave. 

It was at this stage of my mental and physical 



92 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

experience in Africa that I met a certain indi- 
vidual, and immediately my whole line of thought 
and interest was changed; and as the result, 
within eight months I landed on American soil. It 
was just after the capture of the Kaffir chief, 
Sekukuni, by Sir Garnet Wolseley and his native 
allies, the Zwasis, in 1879, I think. 

I was crossing the high veldt at the time, on the 
way from Leydenburg to Heidelburg. The jour- 
ney itself was very interesting for other reasons, 
which cannot well be omitted from my narrative. 
A few miles out of Leydenburg, the wagon-road 
winds up the face of a precipitous mountain. With 
anything but a clever span of oxen, the ascent 
was long drawn out and extremely difficult. One 
morning, on account of a break in the wagon- 
gear, I was compelled to outspan some distance 
from the summit of the hill. Shortly after the sun 
had cleared the mountain-tops, the blanket of 
mist in the long valley below quickly evaporated, 
and exposed to view a remarkable scene. 

A straggling column of Zwasi Kaffirs, about five 
thousand in number, came out of the mist and 
began to ascend the hill. They were returning 
from the country of their hereditary enemies the 
Maccatees, where they had been helping the Brit- 
ish to burn and sack their principal town. Here 
and there could be seen small bunches of captured 
cattle and women, and bringing up the rear was a 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 93 

long string of the wounded. Efforts had been 
made in Leydenburg to provide treatment for 
some of them in the hospitals; but what was the 
use? When the main body arrived and marched, 
chanting and jabbering, through the streets, the 
patients tore off the bandages and were soon hob- 
bling along in the rear of the procession. Later, 
when these unfortunates passed my wagon, in- 
stead of bandages there were patches of clay, 
and in some of the more jagged wounds made by 
potlegs and such missiles, which had been utilized 
instead of bullets, there were plugs of twisted 
grass. Recovery for these stout-hearted warriors 
was a foregone conclusion. 

It was on this occasion that I had the singular 
fortune again to meet Peixoto. Like many other 
adventurers, he had taken service and in the 
course of time had become naturalized among 
the Zwasis. His account of the campaign in Seku- 
kuni's country was particularly interesting in re- 
lation to the development of his own character. 
It seems he, with a troop of his Zwasi warriors, 
had been left behind for a day or two to patrol 
the mountains after the caves had been dyna- 
mited by the British. He affirmed, with savage 
glee, that when he came away from the place, by 
placing his ear to the ground he could still hear 
dogs barking and children crying down below in 
the sealed-up caves. He was glad, he said, he was 



94 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

not a Christian; the Kaffir and Kaffir life were 
good enough for him. 

However, I continued my journey, and one 
evening was comfortably outspanned on the high 
veldt when a large cape cart, drawn by four 
horses, came along and made preparations to 
camp alongside our wagons for the night. I hap- 
pened to have two or three very tame chickens 
which were eating out of my hand and perching 
at times on my shoulders. Very soon an elderly 
man, one of a group which had arrived with the 
cape cart, caught sight of the chickens and came 
over to my wagon gayly clapping his hands. 
With chickens as a point of contact, a conversa- 
tion ensued that was prolonged into the night 
and continued with unabated interest the follow- 
ing morning. I told the man a good deal about my- 
self, my plans and my philosophy; and one thing 
leading to another, he happened to strike into the 
subject of Democracy and the United States. To 
me, at the time, it was absolutely a new world of 
thought. Before I met this man, had any one 
asked me to define a Republican, very probably 
I should have replied that he was a horrid sort of 
a demagogue or disturber of society like Charles 
Bradlaugh, who, on five minutes' notice, would, 
perhaps, have shipped Queen Victoria to Botany 
Bay. 

As I call to mind our conversation, however, 



TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES IN AFRICA 95 

this man had a number of serious criticisms to 
make of the tendencies of democratic government 
in the United States. Nevertheless, he drew, for 
my benefit, a brilliant picture of its principles and 
possibilities, and before his analysis was finished, 
my interest and enthusiasm in the matter were 
aroused to the highest pitch. Finally he gave me 
a good deal of inside history in regard to affairs, 
and consequently in regard to my own prospects, 
in Africa, for a number of years to come, and he 
strongly advised me to make the best of my way 
to the United States. 

This man was the celebrated war correspond- 
ent known to Americans in particular, as well as 
to all the world, as "Bull Run Russell." 

As soon, then, as I was able to dispose of what 
little stock and interests I owned in the country, 
I set out on the long trip to America. 



IV 



IMPRESSIONS OF NEW ENGLAND IN THE 
EIGHTIES 



Having made up my mind to leave South 
Africa, it did not take me long to get under way. 
The situation at the time, political and otherwise, 
was not very promising. With outspoken sym- 
pathy for Boers and Kaffirs, my prospects were 
anything but bright. In most of the towns, Brit- 
ish sentiment was very aggressive, and personal 
encounters between Uitlanders and Africanders 
were of daily occurrence. As a matter of fact, 
there was nearly as much danger in leaving the 
country as there was in remaining and facing the 
music. But having made up my mind, I selected 
the easiest route and that was by way of the Dia- 
mond Fields. On a former visit to these fields 
I had got a glimpse of their interesting activities, 
and I was anxious to widen the experience. So 
I made my plans to travel from Pretoria to Kim- 
berley, and thence to the Cape. 

Just before leaving Pretoria, however, I met a 
prospector by the name of James. He was one of 
those enthusiastic individuals who never take no 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 97 

for an answer, or defeat for an end. He had been 
one of the first on the ground at the Pilgrims' 
Rest Gold Fields, and when speculation grew tame 
in that quarter, he turned his attention to Rus- 
tenburg and to the district now known as the 
Rand. 

When I met James in Pretoria the future of 
the Rand, with commerce and railroads and 
Johannesburg and billions of gold in the moun- 
tains, was already clearly mapped out in his pro- 
phetic yet practical imagination. In fact, he had 
the samples of quartz in his saddle-bags at the 
time, and he was quietly trying to raise the funds 
wherewith to purchase a few farms in the district, 
upon which his faith in the Transvaal and his 
hopes for his own future were pinned. His enthu- 
siasm was contagious. His was the inspiration de- 
rived from a certainty. I was sorely tempted to 
embark, in a small way, in his venture. Indeed, 
I actually put off my departure for a day or two, 
hesitating. 

But James could not wait for me or anybody 
else. The gold fever was already in the air, the 
price of farms in the promising districts was on the 
jump, and altogether the situation was vastly dif- 
ferent from the days at the end of the Burgers' 
administration, when a farm of six thousand acres 
was actually exchanged for two bottles of Hen- 
nessey's "three star" brandy. 



98 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

But mental and political considerations were 
more potent than the glitter of gold dust or the 
dreams of riches. So, finally, I purchased a pas- 
sage on the Kimberley coach and made my exit 
from the Transvaal. 

The Diamond Fields at the time of my last 
visit was without doubt one of the most peculiar 
and interesting spots on the face of the earth. 
Their desolate, sun-baked surroundings, the 
diamond-crazed faces of the inhabitants, the ab- 
solute fury of the social and business conditions, 
and above all, that awful "pit" with its hive of 
toiling humanity in the bowels of the earth, are 
never-to-be-forgotten features of my African ex- 
perience. If I were not positive, however, that 
these scenes and conditions made such a lasting 
impression on my mind as to influence, in some 
degree, the current of my human philosophy, I 
should now dismiss the Diamond Fields without 
further comment. But the impressions were last- 
ing, and the pictures that remain in my mind are 
most interesting. In passing, then, let me take a 
final glance at the strange panorama. 

Kimberley was not then the city of to-day. The 
pit itself was its principal and its unforgettable 
feature. Forever widening and deepening, it was 
constantly forcing the houses away and back from 
its edges. Everywhere on these edges, shanties 
and barrooms and brokers' offices were literally 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 99 

hanging. Farther back there were streets, hotels 
by the dozen, and a wide market-place. Scattered 
in tents, wagons, and houses on the surrounding 
plain were thousands of white men, thousands of 
Kaffirs, and here and there a woman. Over the 
town itself, during the daytime, there was a daz- 
zling glare from a sea of white iron roofs. The pit 
itself, as far down as the eye could penetrate, was 
a labyrinth of steel wires and flying buckets, for- 
ever hoisting, darting hither and thither, and 
emptying their precious loads of slimy blue clay. 
Everywhere on the enormous wings and ends of 
the pit, terraces rose above terraces, all of them 
lined with puffing engines, and swarming with 
human dots. 

At the time of my last visit to these diamond 
fields the community was divided into two hostile 
camps, consisting of legitimate and illegitimate 
brokers. The former had offices and a license, the 
latter scorned expense and control of any kind, 
and had dealings directly, and on the quiet, with 
the Kaffirs in the pit. The Kaffir laborers were 
just then beginning to understand the opportuni- 
ties connected with their employment, and scores 
of valuable stones were finding their way into the 
market and giving no end of trouble to the legi- 
timate dealers. When a Kaffir was caught at the 
game he received an unmerciful thrashing from 
the vigilance committee, and occasionally was 



100 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

strung up on a lamp-post, for there were no trees 
in the vicinity. But the thrashed Kaffir went home 
to his kraal and thought it all over; he inevitably 
returned with all sorts of ingenious devices for 
concealing the gems on his naked person, which he 
perforated with holes and tunnels, and in his 
stomach, which he manipulated in various ways 
at will. Finally, in course of time, the mine itself 
was surrounded by a high fence and a rigid sys- 
tem of examination was instituted by the authori- 
ties. Its principal features were emetics, tapping 
the bodies to locate the cavities, and hanging by 
the neck; but at the time I left the Fields this 
naked Kaffir thief was still the unsolved problem. 

I took passage for Cape Town on the "Royal 
Mail" cart. It was then known as the "Diamond 
Express." The fare was double that charged on 
the ordinary diligence. The equipment was a 
small two-wheeled cart, four horses or mules, a 
Hottentot driver, the mail-bags, and a single pas- 
senger. The stages were about two hours, "on 
horseback," apart, and the pace was a breakneck 
gallop, night and day, four hundred miles, from 
Kimberley to Beaufort, — the latter was then the 
terminus of the railroad, — and hence to Cape 
Town. 

In this way, then, without further adventure, 
I took my departure from South Africa. 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 101 
II 

In looking back I always find that the days 
spent in South Africa are among the most useful 
and personally interesting of my career. Just at 
the time when my intellectual and religious de- 
velopment was being subjected to tests, on the 
outcome of which to quite an extent the direction 
of my activities for the future was dependent, a 
sort of physical appeal to my manhood and to my 
human sympathies was experienced. It is quite 
clear to me now that a healthy and vigorous body 
and an adventurous spirit, such as I acquired in 
South Africa, were among the essential character- 
istics that later on enabled and encouraged me to 
go to work on wider problems than were to be 
found in the surroundings and routine of a switch- 
tower. 

The voyage from Cape Town, South Africa, 
to Boston, Massachusetts, was uneventful; and 
there was not an incident connected with it, or a 
personage met on the way, that calls for atten- 
tion. 

I arrived in Boston in the month of May, 1881. 
So far as my acquaintance with a single inhabi- 
tant of the United States was concerned, I might 
just as well have dropped down from the moon. 
I was almost as ignorant of the geography of the 
country as was Columbus at the time he was try- 
ing to figure out the location of the continent in 



102 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 4 

the western hemisphere. My personal interest in 
the country dates from my conversation with 
"Bull Run" Russell; and backed by a roving dis- 
position, and a mind that was just beginning to 
develop its world-interest, I came over to America 
to investigate. My people in different parts of the 
world had already given me up as an irreclaimable 
wanderer. 

Following along the lines of my special interest, 
then, I began by spending some time wandering 
about the streets of the city of Boston, studying 
manners, conditions, and people. I had a little 
money in my pocket, and I was in no particular 
hurry to make myself known or to settle down at 
a fixed occupation. I visited churches, factories, 
stores, theatres, dance-halls, and the slums. To a 
certain extent, under different conditions, I had 
behaved in a similar manner in South America and 
Africa; but my points of view had been changing 
and, when I arrived in Boston I was no longer a 
boy, trying to protect myself from Society and so- 
cial temptations, but a man of considerable expe- 
rience, with a more or less definite purpose. 

My personal appearance at the time was a little 
out of the ordinary. I wore a corduroy coat with 
a belt, very negligee shirts, and on my wrists were 
a number of copper rings or Kaffir bangles, popu- 
larly worn by white people of those days in many 
parts of South Africa. But, to my mind, I was by 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 103 

no means as picturesque as the average Bostonian 
of the period. For one thing, the coat of the day 
was ridiculously short, and the significant feature 
of the male countenance was the popular "mut- 
ton-chop" patch on the cheeks, which hitherto 
I had always associated with the box-seat of a 
carriage. 

Still more astonishing was the costume of the 
women : hideous "barber-pole" skirts, which gave 
an up-and-down appearance to the faces, were 
supplemented by greasy-looking curls or ringlets 
patched indiscriminately on the forehead and oc- 
casionally on the back of the neck. Added to this 
was the huge, yet in some way jaunty, projection 
or bustle that brought up the rear of this typical 
female ensemble of the early eighties. 

Turning from people to conditions, however, 
the situation at the time appeared to be some- 
thing of a paradox. Taking into account the man- 
ifest energy and resourcefulness of the people, it 
was difficult to account for the unsatisfactory so- 
cial conditions that existed, it would seem, almost 
unobserved. Beggars were numerous, side streets 
were filthy, in some districts loafers and drunk- 
ards on the sidewalks seemed to constitute a ma- 
jority of the people in sight, while on some of the 
streets the soliciting heads of women at windows 
could be noticed in rows, and counted by the 
dozen. This state of affairs elicited but little com- 



104 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ment in newspapers or otherwise, and I myself, 
like the community at large, looked upon it all as 
more or less inevitable. 

But when I turned from this social and eco- 
nomic survey of the mental and personal activi- 
ties of the average New Englander of those days, a 
remarkable state of affairs, in which I was in- 
tensely interested, was unfolded. Society at the 
time, from top to bottom, was absorbingly inter- 
ested in personal culture and development of every 
description. In the year 1881, self-culture was the 
supreme topic in the public mind, much as is so- 
cial and industrial betterment at the present day. 

Notable among the teachers of this personal 
religion were Phillips Brooks, and William H. 
Baldwin, of the Boston Young Men's Christian 
Union. There were many others, but I was parti- 
cularly impressed by the wide human sympathy 
that permeated the individualistic doctrines of 
these men. It was through Mr. Baldwin that 
I was able to come in contact with people who were 
actively engaged in spreading the propaganda of 
personal development and personal responsibility 
so congenial to me. 

After a month or two spent in circumspection of 
this kind in and around the city of Boston, I be- 
gan to think about securing some kind of employ- 
ment. Very naturally I turned my attention to 
the telegraph business with which, already, I was 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 105 

more or less conversant. After some preliminary 
breaking-in, I secured a temporary position at 
Hancock, New Hampshire, and then a permanent 
one as a telegraph operator in a railroad office at 
East Deerfield, Massachusetts. 

Thus my personal venture on the sea of Ameri- 
can social life and industry was made. Intellectu- 
ally, my equipment at the time was very crude. 
Religiously, so far as affiliations were concerned, 
I was in a sort of personal dreamland, in which, 
I confess, I am still thankfully and joyously floun- 
dering. In the distance the problems of American 
life were beginning to take form on the horizon, 
and there was no mistaking the nature of the rud- 
der with which I was preparing to navigate into 
the beckoning future. 

Shakespeare has divided the itinerary of im- 
aginary human pilgrims into a number of charac- 
teristic stages. He takes "the whining school- 
boy," and conducts him through a series of 
adventures from stage to stage, until, finally, in 
old age, tottering in limbs and faculties, with 
"shrunk shank" and "childish treble," he ends 
his strange eventful history in mere oblivion. 

But the thinking man on the upward climb, 
pausing at intervals and looking backward, has or 
should have a much more vital and interesting ex- 
perience to chronicle than is contained in Shake- 
speare's theatrical conception. On the whole, 



106 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

either in tendency or emphatically, the man has 
been one of two things — either his associations, 
and the inner impulse coming down from the 
inscrutable past, have been carrying him along 
and directing his movements this way or that, or, 
on the other hand, his will in great and small, 
consciously and persistently, has been hewing 
a personal trail through a forest of difficulties. 
With individual progress of the latter description 
my story has now to deal. 

Ill 

From the standpoint of conditions on railroads 
at the present day, the buildings and equipment 
at East Deerfield at the time of my first appear- 
ance on the scene were decidedly primitive. The 
principal structure was a long pier-like shed, 
erected on piles, on one end of which my head- 
quarters, the telegraph office, was poised at an 
ever-shifting angle, according to the weather and 
the moisture, or lack of it, in the ground. In the 
rear of the office there was a long wooden building 
with facilities for the transfer of freight. Again, 
close at hand, there was an engine-house, a coal- 
elevator, a building used for the storage of flour, 
and an extensive freight yard. The buildings and 
facilities, however, were not much ahead of the 
methods that were employed in taking care of the 
property that was being hauled over the railroad. 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 107 

Shortly after my arrival I noticed in one of the 
sheds several pieces of merchandise for which 
owners were wanted. The marks on these pack- 
ages were very indistinct. Some one had been 
guessing at the consignees' names and addresses, 
and the stuff was at East Deerfield to be guessed 
at again, and forwarded accordingly. But in pur- 
suit of articles of this description, as I found out 
later, there inevitably came along, sooner or 
later, what was known as a "tracer." Sometimes 
the tracer came ahead of the goods; sometimes the 
goods came ahead of the tracer. In any case, 
the two items were forever in pursuit of each 
other, and, besides, there was a specially em- 
ployed railroad official, who did nothing but travel 
from place to place in a desperate endeavor to 
make the fugitives connect. In one instance a bale 
of cotton, indistinctly marked, made tours of the 
United States in this way, and on the second year 
of its pilgrimage the tracer that was hunting for it 
was as bulky as any history of the country for the 
same period. 

But my life and surroundings at East Deerfield 
can be better illustrated by a glance at my com- 
panions and fellow workers. From these men I 
derived my first ideas of Americans as individuals, 
and of some of their characteristics. And more par- 
ticularly my attention was directed to the type 
commonly spoken of as the Yankee. To me, at 



108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the time, he was a puzzling personality. I was 
given to understand that he was world-famous as 
the man with a "knack." During the period of my 
initiation at East Deerfield, three of these typical 
New Englanders formed almost exclusively the 
circle of my social and business acquaintance- 
ship. 

The first man I will simply refer to as Henry. 
He was a big fellow in every way, except perhaps 
in the matter of brains. But in his case this was 
not much of a drawback. That which in most peo- 
ple would be looked upon as unforgivable "bluff," 
in him was simply an overflow of animal spirits. 
His conversation, containing neither rhyme nor 
reason, was always on the rampage. His natural 
ability was insignificant, but his failures were all 
turned into pleasantries which became the step- 
ping-stones to continued enterprise in other direc- 
tions. His happy-go-lucky disposition dispensed 
with formalities and made light of impediments, 
and as as result, in course of time, while I and 
others were at a standstill Henry bounded from 
one lucrative situation to another, until finally he 
settled down as mayor of a city in Connecticut. 
From this man I got my first idea of Yankee push 
and assurance. 

The word "type" is frequently misunderstood 
and misapplied. Henry, for instance, was not a 
typical Yankee. He was a variation from the 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 109 

type, and a very forcible embodiment of one or 
two Yankee characteristics. 

My second companion at East Deerfield I will 
call Jake. I cannot say that his occupation at 
East Deerfield could be taken as an index to his 
character, but it is somewhat difficult to think of 
them apart. He had charge of the flour-house at 
the back of the freight yards. He was working for 
one of the wealthiest and best-known business 
combinations in the country. 

One evening Jake received a telegram instruct- 
ing him to send three shipments of flour of differ- 
ent quality or brand to three widely separated 
points in New England. He happened to be in a 
hurry that evening, so he asked me to help him in 
rolling the barrels from the house into the car. 
Jake began operations with the matter-of-fact 
statement, " I have n't got a single barrel of the 
brands that are called for, but just watch me 
make them." So he went to work and gave me a 
demonstration of how quality can be imparted to 
flour and stamped on a barrel in the form of a 
brand, in a very few minutes, with the aid of 
a scraper, a little paint, and a stencil. 

Jake was a business variation from the original 
Yankee stem. Of course, the instance I have 
given is only an illustration of a practice that was 
followed in that flour-house year in and year out. 
, But the genuine, fully equipped, and right- 



110 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

minded Yankee at East Deerfield was the station 
agent, Mr. F. A. Field. From the day of my ar- 
rival, without interruption, until I left the place, I 
was attached to him in a close social and business 
relationship. Under his friendly tutelage, I soon 
acquired a fairly comprehensive insight into so- 
cial and industrial conditions in America. In age, 
Mr. Field was my senior by four or five years. So 
far as knowledge of human nature and human so- 
ciety was concerned, he was also far and away my 
superior. Furthermore, at the telegraph key, in 
directing the movement of trains and the activi- 
ties of men, in fact, in all the important and intri- 
cate duties of a railroad yard-master, I have never 
since met his equal. For the rest, he was a widely 
informed man, shrewd, honest, tenacious of his 
opinions, and interested in the world to an 
absorbing degree. His general vitality can be 
understood from one of his favorite remarks, "I 
can never allow myself to grow old." 

But to my mind, the outstanding feature of his 
character was his social and economic enthusiasm. 
Backed by columns of facts and figures, he stud- 
ied the signs of the times, and applied his own 
sympathetic brand of social philosophy to their 
interpretation. He was particularly interested in 
my educational ideas and programme, and the 
benefit I derived from his companionship was 
inestimable. 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 111 

In regard to the recognition of personal merit, 
and the preservation of individual initiative in 
human society, Mr. Field and I were of one mind, 
but I remember distinctly we took different sides 
on the subject of favoritism in the railroad service. 
I insisted that, as a rule, the energetic, capable 
man was selected, regardless of friendships, and 
so forth; he contended that the exceptions to the 
rule were intolerable. It was plain to us both that 
the manager was to blame; but, alas, the manager 
himself was sometimes appointed in the same 
way. 

But Field's philosophical circumspection was 
not confined to the railroad service. He consid- 
ered his country from one end to the other, with 
its boundless acreage and resources, and when he 
thought of the lamentable lack of food, clothing, 
and decent housing conditions among the masses, 
he refused to be comforted. So the remedy and 
the reform were forever the topics of his conversa- 
tion. In course of time, one after another, the 
popular panaceas, such as the single tax, popu- 
lism, and free silver, came up for discussion. In 
connection with them all, in their time, Mr. Field 
could plainly discern the signs of social salvation 
on the horizon. I, on the other hand, anticipated 
the awakening of the social conscience, and I be- 
lieved in the gradual and natural evolution of the 
existing order of things. 



112 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

At any rate, this was the school at East Deer- 
field in which my individualistic opinions first 
came in contact with the practical problems of 
life. 

Mr. Field's home was on a farm, situated on the 
Connecticut River, near Montague, Massachu- 
setts. Here, for a number of years, I was privi- 
leged to consider myself as one of the family. 
From the social and literary points of view, a 
more delightful environment could not be imag- 
ined. Our discussions, which to me were so vi- 
tally interesting, were frequently started in the 
office at East Deerfield, continued along the rail- 
road tracks on the way home, and taken up again 
after supper, amid a circle of interested listeners. 

IV 

The story of my intellectual development in the 
school of discussion, with Frank Field as inter- 
preter, of American life and conditions has over- 
lapped my business experience in the telegraph 
office. Turning now to this side of my personal 
progress, my most vivid impression of American 
railroad life in those days was produced by man's 
inhumanity to man. Neither the social conscience 
of the community, nor the personal conscience of 
the employee, paid any attention to the sacrifice 
of life on the railroads that the nation was paying 
to the blind spirit of industrial progress. In the 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 113 

business itself this lamentable state of affairs was 
basic, and its effect was far-reaching. For exam- 
ple, in some of the departments it was considered 
nothing less than a crime to be a beginner. The 
green brakeman and the green telegraph operator 
were the most conspicuous victims of this under- 
standing. Only those who have run the gauntlet 
of this experience can have any idea of its bitter- 
ness. Without preliminary instructions of any 
kind, a man was assigned to a freight train; in 
three cases out of five the next thing for the rail- 
road to do was to bury him. It was the link 
and pin, the overhead bridge, or the stealthy 
freight car on a flying switch, that closed the 
accounts. 

I was in at the death in a hundred such cases, 
and, although blood was as red and hearts were as 
warm then as to-day, there seemed to be no power 
on earth, or incentive in the human mind, to move 
people to action in the matter. As with the mind 
of a child, I suppose, so with that of a nation; 
civilized ideas have a fixed order of development 
and decay. Social sympathy is the last born of so- 
cial conceptions. In the early eighties evidence of 
social responsibility, in the slaughter on railroads, 
was confined to the sign on the crossing, "Look 
out for the engine!" 

From the fact that my mind was neither ob- 
scured by traditions nor influenced by commer- 



114 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

cialism, the situation on the railroads in those 
days was more incomprehensible to me than the 
deplorable social conditions in South America. In 
discussion with Mr. Field "the accident" was one 
of our standard topics, and every word I have 
written on the matter since owes its vitality to the 
vivid impressions I received in those first years at 
East Deerfield. 

The railroad itself in those days, and particu- 
larly the train service, was looked upon by the 
public as a semi-disreputable business. New Eng- 
land parents, for example, never thought of map- 
ping out a future for their boys in any depart- 
ment of railroad life. The consensus of opinion on 
the subject was by no means unreasonable, for the 
train and yard crews, especially, were recruited, 
generally speaking, from the floating army of mis- 
fits and breakdowns to be found at all times in 
every community. The average railroad tele- 
grapher, that is, the veteran, was emphatically a 
suspect of this description. 

But the recruiting of the telegraph service was 
conducted in a field by itself. Generally speaking, 
if a telegraph operator held on to his job for two 
or three months, he was considered unusually 
reliable. Consequently, with so much shifting 
and discharging of men on every railroad in the 
country, beginners were always in demand. Al- 
most without exception, these beginners were 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 115 

drawn from respectable homes in the country. In 
most instances, however, these boys and girls 
drifted to the railroad as students, against the 
wishes of parents. After a short period of train- 
ing, they were placed in charge of offices at night. 
Their duties consisted in sending and receiving 
a variety of orders relating to the movements of 
trains, and in seeing to it that these orders were 
clearly understood by the trainmen. 

Humanly speaking, these young boys and 
girls, some of them just out of school, had no more 
business in these telegraph offices than so many 
untutored savages. For the railroad business was 
not then the simplified system of to-day. It was 
complicated by the use of green, white, red, and 
blue signals, and by a score of rules and under- 
standings, in the confusion of which the right of 
way on single track was frequently in doubt, and 
was sometimes figured out by conductors and 
others after considerable argument. In the midst 
of it all, the inexperienced operator sat in the tele- 
graph office, frequently with a trembling heart, 
handing out train-orders, during the execution of 
which human lives were at all times hanging in the 
balance. 

It was the green telegraph operator of those 
days, then, and I was one of them, who, witness- 
ing the slaughter and understanding many of its 
causes, felt the inhumanity of the whole situation 



116 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

in double degree, and the following was one of the 
most significant reasons. 

In everyday conversation a polite request for 
the repetition of a word or a remark would occa- 
sion no comment whatever; but anything of the 
kind on the telegraph wires, in those days, in re- 
gard to figures or words misunderstood, was 
nearly always the signal for a "roast" from the 
man at the other end of the wire, in which the 
beginner was treated to a lurid description of 
his personal and professional shortcomings. Stu- 
dents, or "plugs," as they are called, frequently 
succumbed to this treatment and resigned their 
positions in dismay; and of those who weathered 
the storm, the majority became more afraid of the 
hectoring they anticipated than they were of 
making mistakes, and for this reason fatalities 
were continually being traced to the door of the 
nervously bewildered beginners. The unreason- 
able behavior of the experienced men was not a 
matter of design, or temperament: it was simply 
a habit that a nerve-racking state of affairs 
seemed to instill into everybody from the super- 
intendent downward; and thus the beginners 
themselves, when they, in turn, had climbed to 
positions of responsibility, resorted, without fail, 
to the same practices. 

Personally, I was just thick-skinned enough to 
worry through this breaking-in period without 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 117 

serious results. But it was the first phase of the 
personal problem in the railroad service to which 
my attention was directed, and the inspiration 
for all my subsequent analysis of conditions on 
American railroads was derived from the vivid- 
ness of these early impressions. 

Just as soon, however, as I became fairly con- 
versant with my duties at East Deerfield, I turned 
once more to the wider interests of education and 
personal development, to which I had renewed 
my allegiance on my arrival in Boston. 



My sojourn at East Deerfield may be termed 
aptly the reading period of my life. Once in a 
while, indeed, I thought about writing down some 
of my observations, but I was always held in 
check by the lack of statistics and information 
outside my immediate surroundings, and above 
all I felt the pressing need of a more extensive 
vocabulary. I think it was in my second year at 
East Deerfield, that I turned to my English dic- 
tionary to appease this craving for words. My 
delight in the occupation can, I think, only be 
properly appreciated by the student who, in his 
youth, has wrestled enthusiastically with pas- 
sages in Homer or Virgil, turning over the leaves 
of his dictionary, from left to right and from right 
to left, hundreds of times in an evening, until, 



118 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

utterly exhausted, he has fallen asleep, as I have, 
with head at rest on the open volume. 

For two or three years, while at East Deerfield, 
I carried a small English dictionary in my pocket. 
I never looked at it, however, except when on 
railroad journeys, and on long walks which I de- 
lighted to take into the surrounding country. In 
this way, I read the dictionary through word by 
word, from cover to cover, three or four times, not 
to mention the more important words, which re- 
ceived special attention and were re-investigated 
in larger dictionaries. 

Later, however, it became clear to me that 
stowed away in my mind somewhere there had 
been, from my school-days onward, words in 
plenty, and ideas enough for my purposes. What 
I really lacked was practice, conversationally and 
with the pen, in the use of them. Not only was 
my vocabulary sufficient, but in thinking it over 
later I discovered and followed to its source the 
method by which I acquired this vocabulary. 

In presenting an argument, stating a case, or 
pleading a cause, other things being equal, I al- 
ways attributed my intellectual advantage to the 
fact that in my youth I had received a thorough 
drilling in Latin and Greek, while my companions 
as a rule, in my line of life, had not. As a simple 
practical equipment for life's journey, what may 
be called my classical foundation seems to me 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 119 

now to be worth all the other features of my 
school education put together. 

This reading stage of my life, together with the 
study of the dictionary for a definite purpose, de- 
rived most of its inspiration from the literary 
circle on the Field farm. My own intellectual 
enterprise at the time, however, was not to be a 
fitful dipping into literature : it soon took form as 
a simple scheme of education. That these kind 
friends on the Field farm should know more than 
I did about life and literature was to me an intol- 
erable situation. Every indication of the kind, 
and I noticed these indications daily, was an addi- 
tional spur to exertion. And thus, with every 
topic that was brought up for discussion, or al- 
luded to in those long winter evenings, there came 
to me the ever-recurring question, "What do you 
know about this matter?" 

How full of inspiration to meat the time were 
these literary gatherings ! How eagerly we used to 
watch each other for the slightest indication of 
originality in treatment or matter! It is true, I 
was abnormally sensitive and enthusiastic at the 
time. It was always up to me, I thought, to know 
more than the other fellows; and my ambitions, 
as I have said, took a definite and practical form. 
In brief, then, what had I, comparatively a youth, 
fresh from the wilds of Africa, to say, in the com- 
pany of these new-found American friends, about 



120 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

religion, slavery, philosophy, history, and the 
march of the human race from the time of the 
cave-dwellers up to Emerson and Darwin? Here 
was a definite outline of desired knowledge. 

When men were spoken of, what did I know 
about Plato and Mahomet, Alexander and Charle- 
magne, Csesar and Alfred, Shaftesbury and Lin- 
coln? How about the mighty roll of poets and 
thinkers — Shakespeare and Milton, Gibbon and 
Plutarch, Scott and Lecky, Darwin and Spencer, 
Carlyle and Ruskin, Burns and Tennyson? But, 
above all, what did I know about the great indus- 
trial and social problems of the day? All kinds — 
grand, ridiculous, and menacing — were on the 
horizon, and all sorts of startling schemes for so- 
cial betterment were being hatched from day to 
day. Sooner or later they all came up, in some 
form or other, in the Field circle, for debate. 
What, then, did I know about socialism, the sin- 
gle tax, social democracy, and the labor move- 
ment? 

One night in the office at East Deerfield, the 
necessity for a comprehensive course of reading 
to take in nearly all of these subjects, dawned 
upon me. I distinctly remember every detail of 
that night's work and thought. Being Saturday 
night and Sunday morning, there was little or no- 
thing on the road. I wrote everything down — 
the topics, the authors, as many as I could call to 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 121 

mind, and the ideas, so far as my knowledge ex- 
tended at the time, and somewhat as it is all out- 
lined above. I remember the first passenger train 
from the West, the "Albany," was just whistling 
into Greenfield when I finished my programme. 

With me it is not now a case of recalling with an 
effort this incident or that experience; every step 
of my intellectual development at East Deerfield 
is as well remembered as the exciting details of an 
African hunting trip. This fact remains, then, 
that I went to work and covered, as thoroughly as 
I could, the literary ground outlined in the fore- 
going sketch of my ambitions. 

During this period I also paid considerable at- 
tention to the works of Shakespeare. To begin 
with, my delight in his genius was of a religious 
nature. Although I still read my Bible occasion- 
ally, I no longer had the opportunity to attend 
church services, and in some way Shakespeare 
seemed to bring my religious instincts and faith 
into practical contact with people and modern 
life, to a degree that in my experience had never 
been reached by the Bible. One of my favorite 
topics at the time was the religion of Shakespeare 
as it illuminated human interests from the bot- 
tom to the top of the scale. There was no preach- 
ing in this religion : it consisted of vivid word-pic- 
tures and the impressions I derived from them. I 
used to call attention to a series of these religious 



122 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

pictures in the ascending order of their import- 
ance, somewhat as follows. 

I began with the glorification of physical form 
and expression. For example, I took a certain 
degree of religious pleasure in the struggle and 
methods of the brave swimmer beating the surges 
under him and riding upon their back, as de- 
scribed by Francisco in "The Tempest." Then 
again, that hymn of the horse in "Venus and 
Adonis," ending, — 

" Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack, 
Save a proud rider on so proud a back," — 

seemed to give spiritual sanction to my devotion 
to animal life. From this lower plane the religion 
of Shakespeare ascended in terrace above terrace 
of ethical significance. Coriolanus and all-sacri- 
ficing mother-love, the victory of childish plead- 
ing over cruelty and brute force in the scene be- 
tween Arthur and Hubert in "King John"; the 
"quality of mercy" passage in "The Merchant of 
Venice"; the flashlight interpretation of the hu- 
man conscience, so vividly depicted as a knocking 
at the gate, in "Macbeth"; these scenes all came 
home to me as religious lessons applied to the hard- 
pan of everyday human conditions. 

And then again, unmistakable in its usefulness 
to me at the time, was the chapel scene in "Ham- 
let," with its graphic analysis of a soul laid bare 
on the pillory of repentance. Finally, in all the 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 123 

grandeur of its social and religious interpretation, 
came the study of "The Tempest." To my mind, 
at the time, this play was more than a poet's 
dream of moral and social regeneration. It pointed 
to chaos as the inevitable outcome of all govern- 
ment without spiritual guidance and discipline of 
individuals. Calibans, Stephanos, and scheming 
political Antonios, are forever and everywhere at 
war with Prospero and his celestial agencies. 

This study of Shakespeare was a three-cornered 
undertaking carried on between the book in my 
office, the theatres in Boston, and the Field farm. 

During my stay at East Deerfield I worked, for 
the most part on the night-shift, for something 
like eight dollars a week. I saved a little money in 
those days. Once in a while a proposition was 
made in regard to an increase of salary, but I told 
the authorities not to bother about it and they 
did not. I had plans of my own, and seclusion on 
that night job with its opportunity for study and 
thought was absolutely essential. In course of 
time, however, the night job was abolished, and I 
was glad to fall heir to the day work at the same 
place. 

But the old office at night had for me a strange 
fascination. I got into the habit of returning there 
m the evening for the purpose of reading and lis- 
tening to the business on the wire. Frequently I 
remained at my desk until one or two o'clock in 



1U AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the morning. The train-dispatcher soon became 
accustomed to my presence, and sometimes asked 
questions about trains. One night he gave an 
emergency signal and asked me to rush down the 
yard with my red light. I succeeded in stopping 
the train, but, returning through the yard in a 
hurry, I fell into an open culvert, and did not wake 
up until daylight. When the superintendent heard 
of it he said he would not forget it, and he kept his 
word. 

But it was just about this time that what is 
called telegrapher's cramp attacked my right 
hand, and it then took me several months of con- 
stant application to bring my left hand into serv- 
ice and working order. Moreover, after my fall 
into the culvert, my health began to show signs of 
long-continued physical and mental strain, so I 
determined to take a vacation. 

I went to Boston and secured an outfit of pil- 
low-sham holders and started out, on foot, to 
stock the State of New Hampshire with my mer- 
chandise. The venture was a great success so far 
as my health was concerned. 

In about three months I returned, and met the 
superintendent of the Fitchburg Railroad on the 
station platform at Fitchburg. I told him I was 
ready to return to work. He replied, "All right, 
and you may jump on the first pay car that comes 
your way: there is something coming to you." I 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 125 

did so, and drew in a lump sum full pay for every 
day of my three months' absence. 

This superintendent was one of those unforget- 
table men of the old school, who "never made a 
mistake." One night, while listening to the wire 
at East Deerfield, I heard him call attention to 
this fact in unmistakable language. In giving an 
order to an engine to "run wild," a train-dis- 
patcher had forgotten to warn the engineman to 
"look out for a snow-plough ahead"; conse- 
quently there was a smash-up. The dispatcher 
told his chief about it on the wire and added, "We 
are all liable to mistakes." The superintendent, a 
dispatcher himself for twenty years, got hold of 
the key and told the man what he thought of such 
philosophy in the railroad business. He concluded 
the dialogue in this way: "I never made a mistake 
in my life and never intend to. Come to Boston in 
the morning." 

This was the man, Mr. E. A. Smith, from whom 
I derived all my ideas of duty and efficiency in the 
railroad service. He retired from active duties a 
few months ago. Forty -five years or so without a 
mistake is a pretty good railroad record. 

But before leaving East Deerfield, I wish to 
mention another railroad man to whom, probably 
without his knowledge, I was very much in- 
debted. He was the civil engineer who was 
double-tracking the Fitchburg Railroad at the 



126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

time between Fitchburg and Greenfield. He is 
still among us somewhere. The first time I saw 
him he was standing on an abutment of a washed- 
away bridge over the Millers River, near Erving, 
I think it was. It was somewhere round midnight. 
He was watching the effect of the rushing waters 
on the temporary trestle that had just been con- 
structed. The energy and limitless resource of 
this man while building the old Fitchburg Rail- 
road made a tremendous impression upon me. 

Between Erving and Millers Falls, on what is 
now the Boston and Maine Railroad, on the right 
side going west, at or near the place where several 
turns in the river-bed were cut out, there stands 
in a vacant space a huge shaft of earth which is 
pointed out to you by railroad men as "Turner's 
Monument." His real monument, however, was 
the men he left behind him to continue his per- 
sonal work and policy in nearly every department 
of the service. They are, to-day, everywhere dis- 
tinguished among their fellows. 

In course of time this railroad engineer became 
superintendent of the division. His headquarters 
were in Fitchburg. He was a stalwart individualist 
— so it seemed to me, at any rate. He believed 
in personal contact. His own private room in a 
Fitchburg hotel was the sanctum into which the 
men whom he sometimes selected, or intended to 
promote, were invited, usually on a Sunday 



NEW ENGLAND IN THE EIGHTIES 127 

morning. My turn came for an invitation of this 
nature. In brief, an interlocking tower had been 
installed at West Cambridge; for such and such 
reasons, he requested me to take one of the shifts. 
Without any hesitation I accepted the appoint- 
ment for two or three very good reasons. In the 
first place, it was to be a change from a twelve- to 
an eight-hour situation; secondly, it would bring 
me near Boston, the libraries, the lecture plat- 
forms, and the churches; and thirdly, by reason of 
these shorter hours and the change of location, I 
expected to be able to devote more time and study 
to the great social and industrial problems of the 
day, to which, at this time, I was beginning to 
direct my attention. 



MEN AND CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 



In the autumn of the year 1886, I left East 
Deerfield and entered upon my new duties in the 
switch tower at West Cambridge, Massachusetts. 
From a position paying forty dollars a month, with 
a minimum working-day of twelve hours, I passed 
into employment that paid a wage of thirteen 
dollars a week, with a minimum daily service of 
eight hours. I went to work at two o'clock in the 
early morning and, as a rule, I finished my labors 
for the day when the clock struck ten in the fore- 
noon. The middle man followed from ten a.m. 
until six p.m., and the third man then finished the 
round of the twenty-four hours. It did not seem 
to occur to the superintendent in those days, or 
to the towermen themselves, for that matter, that 
this division of the working-day was an unreason- 
able and unbusinesslike arrangement. It was cer- 
tainly a hardship for the men at West Cambridge 
who lived at some distance from the tower. But 
then we were working for a railroad on which duty 
was limitless and regulated only by the require- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 129 

ments of the service and the judgment of the su- 
perintendent. For several years, under this ar- 
rangement, I walked to my work, a distance of 
nearly two miles, between one and two o'clock in 
the morning. 

This working arrangement at West Cambridge 
may be taken as a fair illustration of the kind of 
intelligence, or whatever it may be called, that 
was engaged in the railroad business in those 
days. I cannot look upon the situation as much of 
a reflection on the good will or executive ability 
of managers. The smallest business concern, as 
well as the largest, appeared to be on the same 
industrial and moral level in this respect. Nor 
can the silence or indifference of the worker at the 
time be judged from the standpoint of to-day, 
when rights and wrongs of every description are 
subject to constant and fearless discussion. 

Nevertheless, it was certainly an injustice, as I 
have noted, to request a man to walk to his work 
at two o'clock in the morning without some stated 
and clearly understood reason. The superin- 
tendent was supposed to have this reason, and 
there the matter ended. Later, when the intelli- 
gence of men, managers, and society broadened, 
a fairer division of the working-day was put into 
effect. 

As a matter of fact, however, the specific in- 
stance of inconvenience to which I have referred 



130 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

was only a drop in the bucket compared with the 
general situation of which it was a part. For vari- 
ous reasons, these hardships were particularly ag- 
gravated on railroads, although the employes had 
actually to be educated to an appreciation of this 
fact. For example, my shift of eight hours was 
liable at any time to be extended to sixteen or 
twenty-four without a cent of extra remuneration. 
In such cases I simply said to myself, "That's 
just my luck," and I was only one among thou- 
sands of employes who took matters philosophi- 
cally in this way. 

Quite recently, discussing this matter with Mr. 
E. A. Smith, who was a train dispatcher and as- 
sistant superintendent on the Fitchburg Rail- 
road for many years before I entered the service, 
he remarked: "Why, there is Miss Carter, the 
present telegraph operator at Athol: she has filled 
that position faithfully and without mistake of 
any description for something like forty-five 
years. I am well within the mark when I say that 
hundreds of times during that long period of serv- 
ice, she went to work in that office at six o'clock 
on Sunday mornings and, relief operators failing 
to appear, she kept it up until midnight on Mon- 
days without a word of protest. During this long 
period she handled not only important train or- 
ders and other railroad business, but also all the 
message work of the Western Union Telegraph 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 131 

Company. This position was worth forty dollars 
a month to Miss Carter. There were no extras or 
perquisites connected with her work, but if she 
happened to be sick for a day the pay for that day 
was deducted from her salary at the end of the 
month. From the business of the Western Union 
Telegraph Company alone the railroad probably 
benefited to many times the amount of the salar- 
ies paid to the operators. Overtime, in those days, 
was never given a thought. It had simply not 
been invented, for the same psychological and 
commercial reasons, I suppose, that the safety 
bicycle had not then superseded the awkward and 
dangerous fly wheel." 

Of course, a situation of this kind could not con- 
tinue indefinitely in any form of progressive so- 
ciety. Superintendents and others, who were 
called upon to mingle with the employes and dis- 
cuss these conditions, gradually awoke to the in- 
justice of the situation, and in many directions, 
under pressure, I confess, were the first to initi- 
ate reforms. 

I call to mind the first payment for overtime I 
ever received. I was the most surprised individual 
on the Fitchburg Railroad. The company was in- 
stalling a switch tower at Waltham, and I was re- 
quested, after my day's work at West Cambridge 
was over, to go to that place and break in two or 
three green men so that they might be ready for 



132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

their duties on the completion of the new plant. 
The following week, when I counted my money at 
the little window in the pay car, I was simply 
dumfounded. I did not exactly feel like walking 
off with something that did not rightfully belong 
to me, so I raised the half -guilty look, with which 
I was surveying the wealth in my hand, to the 
countenance of the paymaster. Both he and his 
assistant were highly amused at my dilemma. 
Then one of them good-naturedly said to me, 
"Move on, Fagan, that's all right." But the af- 
fair did not end there. Some one of the higher of- 
ficials, I understand, caught sight of the item on 
the pay-roll, and called for an explanation. I have 
good reason for thinking that the matter was 
finally settled by the superintendent making good 
the amount out of his own pocket. 

But while the industrial lot of telegraph and 
tower men in those days was particularly distress- 
ing, judging it from present standards of justice, 
the situation in the train service was very much 
worse. I recall a typical case at East Deerfield. 
One day, in mid-winter, Conductor Parks walked 
into my office. His daily routine was to run a 
freight train from East Deerfield to Ashburnham 
Junction and return. This was, barring accidents, 
a reasonable day's work; under ordinary circum- 
stances he could make the trip in something like 
ten hours. On the occasion I now refer to, Con- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 133 

ductor Parks and his train had been snow-bound 
and otherwise tied up at various places on the road 
for forty-eight hours. I told him I thought it was 
"pretty hard lines." His reply was something 
like this: "Oh, that's nothing. Look at poor old 
Hobbs ! They took his engine away from him yes- 
terday to help a passenger train up Royalston 
grade. He is still side-tracked at that point wait- 
ing for the return of his engine." 

II 

Before describing my actual duties in the switch 
tower at West Cambridge and the features con- 
nected with these duties that developed and 
guided my progress in other directions, I am 
going to touch briefly on the accident situation in 
those early days, for the reason that the problem 
itself had much to do, not only with my own per- 
sonal career, but with industrial improvement 
among railroad men in general. So far as respon- 
sibility for accident was concerned, the manager, 
the employe, and the public were all in the same 
box. There was probably quite as much social con- 
science concerned in the matter then as now, but 
it was unorganized and leaderless. There was 
absolutely no publicity, at the time, in regard to 
the details of railroad life, either in Massachusetts 
or elsewhere. In the fierce hurry of the times the 
public mind was absorbed in the contemplation of 



134 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

statistics relating to railroad mileage and the ex- 
pansion of trade. Nevertheless, it was a very 
serious state of affairs from any point of view, 
and during the time of my service at East Deer- 
field if the church bells had been rung every 
time a human being was killed or injured on Amer- 
ican railroads, it seems to me they would have 
been kept tolling almost incessantly. In my own 
narrow circle of acquaintances, eighteen con- 
ductors were killed or injured in one year, and on 
an average, one engineman, one fireman, two con- 
ductors, and six brakemen every month in the 
year. A trainman, in those days, with eight fin- 
gers and two thumbs was a rarity. 

By common consent at the time, sympathy and 
interest of every description in this accident situa- 
tion seemed to be focused on what was known as 
the "paper." This was a popular collection for 
the benefit of unfortunates. During my experi- 
ence on the railroad at East Deerfield, there was 
hardly a week in which one of these papers was 
not in circulation in the neighborhood. The pay- 
car was the headquarters for many of these ap- 
peals, and the superintendent himself frequently 
headed the list of subscribers. Mr. E. K. Turner, 
who, as engineer and some of the time as super- 
intendent, was double-tracking the road at the 
time, was a strict disciplinarian, and men were 
frequently discharged by him simply "for cause," 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 135 

on five minutes' notice. But this stern feature 
of his administration was buried in universal re- 
spect for the official who never missed an oppor- 
tunity to put down his name on these circulars 
for a "&ve." 

It must not be imagined, however, that this 
distressing accident situation was the result of 
widespread carelessness on the part of the em- 
ployes. Both rules and equipment at the time 
were actually unknown quantities. Everything 
was in the experimental stage, and every change 
for the better was nearly always the result or the 
price of some bitter experience. With the same 
consecration to duty to-day as then, the modern 
accident problem would lose its significance. In- 
deed, as a matter of fact, carelessness in those 
days was frequently more of a reflection on man- 
agement, or rather on the science of railroading 
at the time, than on the conduct of employes. 
An illustration of this point will not be out of 
place. 

One night at East Deerfield I received orders 
from the train dispatcher to get out an extra en- 
gine to help train number ninety -four. This en- 
gine, with the figures "94" displayed on its head- 
light, immediately took up a position in the yard 
awaiting the arrival of that train. Meanwhile 
another train, number ninety -three, moving in 
the opposite direction, on single track, had re- 



136 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ceived orders to meet number ninety-four at 
East Deerfield. In a few minutes number ninety- 
three came along, and, catching sight of the fig- 
ures ninety-four on the headlight of the helping 
engine, the engineer mistook this helper for the 
regular train he was to meet and kept on his way. 
One of the most disastrous freight wrecks in the 
history of the road was the result. Nowadays 
helping engines never display numbers until 
they are actually hitched to a train. Such, at any 
rate, is the history of a rule, and its reflection on 
the foresight or education of management. 

It seems to me there was less real carelessness 
on the railroads in those days than at any time 
since. It is true the material was crude and in- 
experienced, and men were turned loose on their 
jobs without any examination, physical or other- 
wise, in regard to qualifications. All over the 
country these men, by the score, were being 
trapped and killed by the overhead bridge, the 
"link-and-pin" device, and the open frog. Then, 
after years of bitter experience, came the auto- 
matic coupler, the bridge guard, and the blocked 
frog. Meanwhile, out of the debris of this dis- 
tressing situation, a new and more intelligent 
class of railroad men was emerging. It is with 
the history of this new class, then beginning to 
organize, among whom my own lot was cast, that 
I am now concerned. Under inconceivable dif- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 137 

Acuities they served the public and their employ- 
ers faithfully and well. To these men belongs 
most of the credit for pointing out the defects in 
the service, and thus paving the way for reforms 
which soon put the railroad business in America, 
for a time at least, on a sane and safe basis. To 
accomplish their ends these men, this better class 
of newcomers, determined to organize. 

During my term of service at East Deerfield, 
this great labor movement for the bettering of 
working and financial conditions, or at least its 
undercurrent, was in full swing. Of course it was 
not a local issue, but an enterprise of national 
significance. Already in the Western States, 
under the leadership of the Knights of Labor, it 
had repeatedly manifested itself in riotous de- 
monstrations. But in New England, though the 
general aims were similar, the human material 
engaged in the struggle was different. 

As it came under my observation at East 
Deerfield, the movement was a reasonable revolt 
against the intolerable state of affairs which I 
have described, and it was being engineered by 
men of my acquaintance who were far from be- 
ing unlawfully inclined. The idea of organiza- 
tion for the common good was taking firm hold 
of their common sense and intelligence, and it 
spread rapidly among enginemen, firemen, con- 
ductors, brakemen, and switchmen. These men, 



138 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

at that time, wanted reasonable pay, fair treat- 
ment, safety in operation and, at the same time, 
in a marked degree, they desired the respect and 
good will of the managers and the public. This 
situation was slowly evolving under my eyes at 
East Deerfield. From day to day for several 
years it continued to work out, very unobtrus- 
ively, it is true, until finally it came to the sur- 
face. In the round-house, in the caboose, in the 
telegraph office, wherever two or three men came 
together, there was a never-ending discussion of 
the vital issues of conditions and wages. At the 
same time there was no end of talk and exchange 
of opinions going on about rules, mechanical and 
personal safeguards, and the general improve- 
ment of the service. In these discussions, loyalty 
to the old Fitchburg Railroad was an ever-pre- 
sent and distinguishing feature. This was act- 
ually the atmosphere in which I worked at East 
Deerfield. To interest the public and the man- 
agement in these betterment schemes, without 
losing their jobs, was, to begin with, the burden 
of the railroad labor movement in New England, 
according to my diagnosis. But management in 
New England, taking its cue from the demonstra- 
tions that were accompanying the movement in 
some of the western States, was antagonistic to 
the men, while public opinion, as is usual when a 
political complication in the distance is fore- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 139 

shadowed, was on the fence awaiting develop- 
ments. 

To-day, however, thinking the matter over 
carefully at a time when the strike is quite as con- 
spicuously the weapon of the well-to-do and 
splendidly conditioned railroad man as of under- 
paid and otherwise less fortunate workers in 
other industries, I naturally ask myself what has 
become of that well-disposed body of men, and of 
that splendid movement whose beginnings ap- 
peared to me, at East Deerfield, to be so full of 
industrial and social inspiration. It must be re- 
membered that society and management in those 
days threw these workers back upon their own 
resources, and to them, that is, to the employes, 
almost exclusively belongs the credit for a series 
of reforms and material betterments on railroads 
that is probably unexampled in industrial his- 
tory. If, then, along these same lines of advance, 
workers all over the country are now taking 
advantage of impregnable economic positions, 
and are openly converting exaggerated private 
rights into pronounced public wrongs, the his- 
tory of the beginnings of this movement, as it 
came under my observation on the railroads, and 
as I am now trying to describe it, cannot fail to 
be interesting. 

During the early eighties, the new era on rail- 
roads and elsewhere, with brotherhood and hu- 



140 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

manity at the helm, was coming on apace. From 
my individualistic point of view, these ideas of 
humanity and brotherhood were being trans- 
lated by the social conscience of America into 
terms almost exclusively of economic value and 
significance. That there was and is social and 
industrial danger in this one-sided attitude goes 
without saying. 

Ill 

It is impossible for me at this time to follow in 
detail the progress of the labor movement on the 
railroads, as it came under my observation. But 
the following account of my service in the signal 
tower at West Cambridge will, I think, serve to 
illustrate and illuminate many of its interesting 
features. The principal points to be noticed will 
be the individualistic character of a part of my 
surroundings, and the careful, conscientious, and 
socially successful career of employes who were 
permitted to labor in that kind of an atmosphere. 

In the switch tower at West Cambridge be- 
tween midnight and six o'clock in the morning, 
there is usually plenty of time for reading, writing, 
or study. Side work of this kind, of course, is not 
definitely sanctioned by the management. In fact, 
any practice that interferes, or is likely to inter- 
fere with the towerman's duties, is an infringement 
of the general rules of the company. For thirty 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 141 

years I have lived up to the spirit of these rules 
without paying much attention to the letter. To 
compel a man on a night job of this kind simply 
to pose in a waiting attitude, perhaps for an hour 
at a time, would be profitless discipline. 

In a general way the towerman's duties may 
briefly be described under a few definite and in- 
teresting heads. In the first place, a thorough 
understanding of the book of rules and the 
current time-tables is absolutely essential. This 
knowledge must be supplemented by unfaltering 
attention to the clicking of the telegraph wires, 
and to the ringing of the various track bells. In 
reality, these sounds, relating to the movement 
of trains, are heard, or rather felt, without any 
effort in the way of listening, while the towerman 
is throwing a combination on his machine, or ex- 
plaining a situation to a trainman. In the same 
way an expert telegraph operator, without any 
effort, can read a message on his sounder, mani- 
pulate his key, and answer the inquiries of pa- 
trons at the office window. 

In my own case this dissociation of routine 
work from literary or other enterprises in which 
my mind was at the time engaged, is a phase of 
my educational experience in which I have al- 
ways been profoundly interested. One day, quite 
accidentally, it occurred to me that this lever- 
throwing was, in some curious way, a great 



142 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

intellectual stimulant. Its immediate effect was to 
bring my subconscious knowledge or ingenuity to 
the surface. I pursued this inspirational method 
for years, and, after a while, every attempt of 
the kind was like an excursion into dreamland. 
When at a loss for a word or an illustration of any 
kind, the answer was usually forthcoming after 
an exciting round or two at the levers. The 
greater the stress of business, and the louder the 
rattle of the trains, or the ringing of the bells, 
which a sort of unconscious half of me was at- 
tending to with scrupulous fidelity, the keener 
became the intellectual activity of my other half, 
which, at the same time, was busy with other in- 
terests. It was simply a sort of singing at my 
work, and when anything happened to disturb 
the harmonious progress of the two parallel 
operations the charm, of course, was broken. 
Immaterial conversation or noises, however, were 
unheeded. One day during or after a scene of this 
kind, one of the boys exploded a cannon cracker 
under my chair. I suppose I heard it, but that 
was all. 

But coming back to the everyday situation, and 
apart from this mental acuteness which, in the ex- 
ercise of his responsible duties, the average tower- 
man acquires, an absolutely faultless manipula- 
tion of the levers of the interlocking machine is 
called for in conjunction with the exercise of 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 143 

sound judgment in all matters that relate to the 
movement of the trains. 

There are sixty levers in the switch tower at 
West Cambridge. Every lever is numbered. A 
series of these numbers, or the levers they repre- 
sent, thrown in a given rotation, constitutes a 
route. Every route that is set up in this way for 
the passage of a train is isolated, as it were, and 
protected from trains passing or crossing on other 
routes. The mechanical intelligence that domin- 
ates the situation in the tower, and unites every 
train and every employe within the tower zone in 
a bond of safety, is located behind the machine in 
a bed of long steel rods and cross-bolts, called the 
"locking." In preparing the routes, and in giv- 
ing signals for the movements of trains, what may 
be called the conscience of the machine is fre- 
quently brought into play. When the operator 
takes hold of and attempts to pull a lever wrong- 
fully, to which act, in some form, danger is at- 
tached, he invariably finds the forbidden move- 
ment absolutely locked against his effort. He has 
been actually detected in an attempt to make a 
mistake, and the effect on the towerman's con- 
science at the time is more acute than a repri- 
mand from his superintendent. The nervous 
strain on a beginner in one of these switch towers 
is considerable, but once he has become thoroughly 
broken in and conversant with the mechanical 



144 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

part of his duties, his confidence in the machine 
becomes unlimited, and he is able to concentrate 
his mind, almost exclusively, on the disposition of 
his trains and on other matters, according to the 
nature and strength of his faculties. 

But while the above is a fair description of the 
situation in a switch tower at the present day, it 
by no means covered the field of work at West 
Cambridge at the time I entered the service. The 
most disagreeable part of the work in those days 
was outdoors. We were called upon, just when we 
could and how we could, to clean, oil, and adjust 
the switches. For this purpose we were supplied 
with a kit of tools. The lamp or signal depart- 
ment was also in our charge. There were some- 
thing like fifty signal lamps to be cleaned, filled, 
and placed in position on high poles and low 
standards. In this way a track circuit of two or 
three miles had to be covered twice a day. To ac- 
complish this work we took flying trips from the 
tower, between trains, as opportunity offered. 

IV 

From these signal-tower duties in which for 
twenty-five years I was almost continuously en- 
gaged, I turn now to the little community of 
workers at West Cambridge. I divide these work- 
ers into two groups. First, the train and engine- 
men, who were not fixtures, as it were, at West 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 145 

Cambridge, but on train trips and otherwise were 
frequent visitors at the tower, and at all times as- 
sociated with its activities. As I remember these 
train employes, and have elsewhere described 
them, they had been, in their early railroad expe- 
rience, individualists both by instinct and in- 
clination; but just about the time I arrived at 
West Cambridge their condition, financial and 
otherwise, was improving with almost incredible 
swiftness. Their organizations were becoming 
political factors, and political society was begin- 
ning to prick up its ears and get busy about them. 
To illustrate the situation in the case of this first 
group of railroad men and its treatment by society 
in those days of dawning prosperity, I will take 
the case of Conductor Breakers. 

This interesting railroad man was conductor of 
a train crew that did most of the switching in the 
railroad territory around Cambridge in the early 
days of my service at that point. He was a man of 
the old school, who had been in the fight for better 
conditions on railroads from the beginning. One 
day Mr. Breakers said to me, " When I entered the 
railroad service, thirty years ago, I moved from 
Charlestown to Cambridge with all my worldly 
possessions on a wheelbarrow." With the passage 
of time, and as the position of this man, financially 
and otherwise, improved, a very curious state of 
affairs in regard to his duties began to develop. 



146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

The situation simply arose from the application of 
current business morality to the affairs of a rail- 
road. Just as soon as business and political inter- 
ests began to move in behalf of the railroad em- 
ploye, and to take notice of his rising importance, 
his industrial integrity was endangered. For ex- 
ample, it made little difference to the Fitchburg 
Railroad Company whether factory "A" or fac- 
tory "B" received the first visit from the switch 
engine in the morning, but as soon as the pro- 
prietors or foremen of a dozen factories began to 
bribe the conductor in order to secure priority of 
service and other favors, a quiet system of graft 
was introduced that finally developed into a most 
astonishing state of affairs. For a time the con- 
ductor in question avoided and tried to dodge the 
temptation; but the pressure was too great, and 
he ended by working the situation for all it was 
worth, and in his hands it proved to be worth a 
good deal. Before long, from one of the largest 
plants in the neighborhood he was in receipt of a 
regular salary. From other firms, at intervals, he 
received donations of pocket-money, hams, milk, 
wood, coal, and ice, according to his requirements, 
and if he needed anything in the way of hardware 
or pottery, all he had to do was to visit the fac- 
tories and help himself. After a while, in collect- 
ing these assessments, in , which the whole train 
crew sometimes shared, the conductor enlisted the 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 147 

services of one of his brakemen — this man had 
nearly as many side lines as the conductor. His 
job on the railroad, however, did not prevent him 
from being, at the same time, a call member of the 
Cambridge Fire Department. 

But opportunity and encouragement for enter- 
prises of this kind could not be confined to the 
limits of a freight yard or a single city. The con- 
ductor soon entered the political arena. Every 
once in a while he took a trip to Washington in the 
interests of a post-master, a congressman, or a 
senator. Then the management of the Fitchburg 
Railroad itself got mixed in the muddle. Just how 
no man could tell, for Breakers went around with 
his finger on his lips saying "Hush" to everybody. 
His little trips to Washington and elsewhere 
did not interfere in any way with the pay that was 
coming to him every week, as conductor of the 
switcher. This was certainly a very strange state 
of affairs. But the most demoralizing effect of po- 
litical and other interference in the railroad busi- 
ness has yet to be mentioned. 

One afternoon, the switch engine with a few 
cars, in charge of this conductor, taking a flying 
trip into the city, hit the rear of an express pas- 
senger train ahead, wihch had slowed up a little at 
Somerville. It was on the programme to dis- 
charge the entire crew, but Conductor Breakers 
pulled too many strings. Until the men were 



148 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

quietly returned to their jobs, the office of the 
superintendent was besieged with delegation 
committees and professional people representing, 
it was calculated, fully a third of the voting popu- 
lation of Charlestown. I was able to keep track of 
these events pretty closely from the fact that dur- 
ing this period I was acting as clerk to the super- 
intendent of the road, and as such I had charge of 
the pay-rolls and had every opportunity to take 
note of the proceedings. But I never met a man 
who could say that he was able to fathom the 
mystery of Conductor Breakers and his manoeu- 
vres. His lack of education was a bar to his per- 
sonal preferment. His specialty was getting jobs 
for other people, or making them believe he was 
busy in their interests. This, it seems, was suf- 
ficient, in railroad and political circles, at any rate, 
to keep nearly everybody in tow. 

This situation, of course, is bygone history, but 
it gives one a good idea how questionable prac- 
tices began on railroads. It also illustrates the 
share which society itself had in the encourage- 
ment of practices which are now being so strenu- 
ously condemned. 

V 

The second group of railroad men at West 
Cambridge was altogether of a different class or 
variety. Surely there must have been something 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 149 

industrially healthy and significant in the situa- 
tion when we come to consider that, regardless of 
conditions and wages at this point on the railroad, 
a dozen workers held together year in and year 
out, and can now show records ranging from 
twenty to forty years of unbroken and satisfac- 
tory service. A questionable situation, I suppose, 
to some progressive people who recognize no con- 
dition as sound that is not forever on the jump 
toward something different and prospectively 
better. Such people have little appreciation for 
conditions or individuals in this world that wisely 
slow up or stand still for inspirational purposes. 
But apart from all comment on the situation, the 
facts themselves at West Cambridge are decidedly 
interesting. 

All told, there were seven trackmen, two gate- 
men, and three towermen in this little group. The 
towermen received about thirteen dollars a week, 
the others about eight dollars. There were seven 
days in the working-week, but remuneration for 
work on Sunday in those days was definitely for- 
bidden by orders from headquarters. To find the 
amount that was due for work of a single day, 
however, the weekly wage was invariably divided 
by seven. 

While the working conditions of the towerman, 
then, considering the importance of his duties, 
were not altogether satisfactory, those of the 



150 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

trackmen, of course, were very much worse. And 
yet the results under these conditions, both to so- 
ciety and to the railroad, were certainly remark- 
able. The record of each individual in this group 
of workers was about the same as my own, and so 
I am speaking for the group when I say that per- 
sonally, in thirty years' service, I never received a 
letter, or was asked a single question that could be 
construed into a reflection on conduct or work. 
Industrially, under conditions which, in part, 
I have described, the records of these men were 
all right; socially they were still better. 

Of the original group, with possibly one excep- 
tion, each individual owns, or did own, his little 
home. One of these men, a trackman, actually 
built the frame of his dwelling-house himself. 
The families of these workers ranged from three 
to ten children to the household; most of these 
children are now grown up and can hold their 
own with any, it matters not who they may be, 
in the community. These children grew up under 
my eyes. They were well fed, well clothed, well 
housed, well educated, and perfectly healthy. It 
is not too much to say that the best results were 
derived from the lowest wage and the keenest 
struggle. Leaving the towermen out of the cal- 
culation, the results I have mentioned were ob- 
tained on a weekly income, per individual, of less 
than eight dollars. 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 151 

Once upon a time one of these men had a case 
in court. He owned a tenement house in Somer- 
ville, and his case had something to do with the 
collection of his rents. Referring to his low wages 
and his real estate holdings, the Judge put this 
question to him, — "How do you do it?" The 
man answered, — "Your Honor, that's my 
secret." 

In industrial circles, as elsewhere, secrets of 
this kind have usually a good deal to do with the 
character and disposition of the "boss." The 
section foreman at West Cambridge was and is, 
in many ways, a remarkable man. As I look at 
it, the force of his unassuming yet strong per- 
sonality kept a gang of men together for some- 
thing like a quarter of a century. He is the great- 
est living compliment to the principles of indus- 
trial honesty that I ever met. He is strict in a 
way, yet he never scolds. He is a tall, rugged 
man of the Lincoln type, just as much at home 
among his men digging out the switches in the 
teeth of a blizzard of snow as he is in the com- 
pany of notables at a Masonic gathering. Among 
his fellows on the railroad, to mention Delvy is 
to praise him. 

Because it will conduct me along the lines of 
my own progress at West Cambridge, and at the 
same time throw a little light on the "secrets" of 
these rugged personalities in railroad life, I shall 



152 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

try to draw pen portraits of some of Delvy's 
men. 

To begin with, there is Mat. He is now sec- 
ond hand on the job; a very quiet fellow, some- 
what undersized, big-hearted, and a bachelor. 
From childhood he has lived with his widowed 
mother. Report has it he remains single for her 
sake. Mat is a born optimist. He looks at every- 
thing through honest eyes. In a variety of little 
and big ways, at work and in the community, he 
is the conscience of the gang. 

John, on the other hand, is large of frame as 
Mat is slight. He is a ruddy-faced man, squarely 
built, and his voice has a deep musical ring. He 
works like a clock, methodically and religiously. 
John is a king of tampers. He sets the pace, di- 
rects the energy, and supplies the good nature. 
There is music in tamping ties, and John was a 
splendid conductor. One day a rail in the bend- 
ing, held high in the air, slipped in some way, 
and came down with fearful crash on John's 
thigh. It was a long lay-off in the hospital and at 
home, but finally he limped back to his work. He 
said the railroad had been good to him. All bills 
had been paid and quite a little something was 
left over in his pocket. 

The third man, Lucy, is the Nestor of the gang. 
Up to the last he was a splendid worker. Some 
time ago his age became known to the authori- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 153 

ties, and, besides, infirmities developed and then 
Delvy himself could n't save him. For quite a 
while after his removal he frequently turned out 
with the boys in the morning and followed them 
to their work. Seating himself by the side of the 
track he smoked the hours away, watching the 
proceedings achingly. No Rachel ever wept for 
her children as this man lamented the loss of his 
job. He is now finishing off his very useful ca- 
reer as gateman on a crossing. 

Sampson is a strong and healthy-looking 
French-Canadian. He is unusually vigorous and 
active for a laboring-man over sixty. His spe- 
cialty is chopping. He is the woodsman of the 
gang. His axe is quite a feature on the section. 
He peels ties, keeps the brush down, and fells trees 
when necessary. As it seemed to me at times, 
watching and listening, he always made the 
morning hours feel glorious with the ring and 
crack of his hatchet. 

The next man, Harkins, is the millionaire of the 
group. The habit of saving pennies and turning 
them over and over again in a variety of little 
ways, in the house, in the garden, and in gen- 
eral domestic economy, brought about aston- 
ishing results in the end. He is the reputed owner 
of a block of houses in Somerville, and is soon 
going back to the old country to buy an estate. 

Finally, there is Dan. His arrival at West 



154 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

Cambridge preceded my own by a year or two. 
At all times lie seemed to have his work on his 
mind, and at night, in stormy weather, he fre- 
quently came down to the tower of his own ac- 
cord, just to assure himself that everything was 
in good working order. To begin with, he was a 
section hand pure and simple. His duty was, in 
part, to walk over and inspect a section of track 
the first thing in the morning and the last thing 
at night. He and his family had the West Cam- 
bridge "secret," in a marked degree. It con- 
sisted of all sorts of little economies, even to the 
extent of picking up waste lumber, splitting ties 
for fuel and working at all sorts of odd jobs in the 
neighborhood at the break of dawn, and some- 
times far into the night. In all kinds of work the 
children lent a hand. Then there were hens and 
a little gardening as side lines, and besides, when 
it came to a pinch, if I am not mistaken, the boys 
could cobble their own shoes, and the only daugh- 
ter in the family could make her own dresses. It 
is easy to understand what a quantity of char- 
acter was wrapped up in a situation of this kind. 
In the process of improving working conditions 
by organization and otherwise, is it possible to 
retain the sterling characteristics for which Dan 
and his type were distinguished? Will education 
and industrial enlightenment take care of the 
issue? The world to-day is asking this question. 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 155 

In course of time Dan's duties on the railroad 
became more responsible, but there was no 
change for the better in his income. When, 
thanks to the efforts of their brotherhood, the 
towermen were relieved of all outdoor duties at 
West Cambridge, Dan fell heir to the adjusting 
tools, the lamps, and the oil cans. In this way, 
quite frequently nowadays, the man lower down 
feels the pinch of a "raise" or a lift higher up. 
But Dan and his fellows kept right along plod- 
dingly. His natural ability and ingenuity along 
mechanical lines were remarkable. His educa- 
tional opportunities, however, had been few. In 
fact, in some directions, he was decidedly super- 
stitious. Somehow I always looked upon this 
characteristic as one of his virtues. In actual con- 
tact with life his superstition was of as much 
practical value as libraries of book learning are 
to some other people. This is philosophy in ac- 
cordance with the facts. In dealing with his fel- 
low men Dan was as honest as the hills are solid. 
His superstition had something to do with his be- 
havior. In the course of years of track-walking, 
it is no exaggeration to say that Dan picked up, 
in the aggregate, two or three hundred dollars in 
the form of cash and jewelry. As it seemed to 
me, he was always unaccountably restless until 
the property was safely returned to the owners. 

Dan's philosophy of honesty was unique as 



156 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

well as refreshing. One day he explained its 
fundamentals to me somewhat as follows: In the 
old country, when he was a boy, as a fee for carry- 
ing a trunk, a gentleman in a hurry thrust a coin 
into his hand. When Dan got home he found a 
sovereign in his pocket. As Dan looked at it, the 
man, in the dusk of the evening, had made a mis- 
take. By rights the coin should have been a shill- 
ing. For several days the gold piece actually 
burned in his pocket. But what could he do? 
And, besides, he was sadly in need of a new pair 
of shoes. After a week of mental distress he fin- 
ally purchased a pair. As he was leaving the 
store, he stumbled over a black cat. This put the 
finishing touch to his mental agitation. But he 
could not work in his bare feet, so the boots had 
to be worn. As Dan tells the story, the first 
day he wore them the boots were fairly comfort- 
able; the second day they pinched a little; on the 
third, they were positively painful; and then, 
after spending the fourth day in agony, he placed 
the cursed things in a bag with a rock for a weight 
and threw them into the lake. From that day 
Dan's ideas of the sacred rights of property were 
unshakable. 

But Dan was one of nature's humorists, as 
well as a preceptor of morals. For years, just be- 
fore going to work in the morning, he was in the 
habit of paying a flying visit to the tower to 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 157 

snatch a glance at the newspapers. Dan had a 
habit of reading the headlines out loud, with a 
comment or two slipped in between. He invar- 
iably began with the weather report, the heading 
of which, as Dan read it out loud, was always as 
follows: "For Boston and vacancy." 

Dan was also the regulator of the tower clock, 
and once in a while came in to adjust what he 
called its "penundulum." Furthermore, he had 
some knowledge of herbs and wild flowers and 
possessed, among other medicinal secrets, an in- 
fallible remedy for "information of the bladder." 

VI 

But apart from questions relating to charac- 
ter and its conservation, which naturally come to 
the front from my description of the rugged and 
ready material engaged in the railroad business 
at East Deerfield and West Cambridge, there is 
another feature of the situation that is also of 
universal importance; I refer to the conservation 
of authority. 

At a time when the attitude of powerful labor 
organizations toward discipline on railroads was 
being freely discussed in the public prints, Mr. 
Roosevelt, then President, wrote this little ser- 
mon on the subject: — 

"The wage- worker who does not do well at his 
job shows he lacks self-respect. He ought to wish 



158 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

to do well because he respects himself. Remem- 
ber, too, that ordinarily the rich man cannot 
harm you unless you harm yourself. If you are 
satisfied with your standard of living until some- 
body else comes in with a higher standard of liv- 
ing, then the harm the other man has done to you 
comes because of your own yielding to weakness 
and envy. If your heart is stout enough you 
won't feel it. 

"The labor union has done great and needed 
work for the betterment of the laboring-man; 
but where it has worked against his individual ef- 
ficiency as a worker it has gone wrong, and the 
wrong must be remedied. On railroads, for in- 
stance, we should not tolerate any interference 
with the absolute right of a superintendent to dis- 
charge a man. There should be no requirement to 
show cause. The man who is a little inefficient or 
a little careless, and is left in the service, is apt 
finally to be responsible for some great disaster; 
and there should not be the slightest interference 
or attempted interference with the right of a 
superintendent to turn such a man out. Where a 
labor union works to decrease the average ef- 
ficiency of the worker, it cannot in the long run 
escape being detrimental to the community as a 
whole, and in the real interest of organized labor, 
this should not be permitted." 

In the light of the facts as they are to-day, rail- 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 159 

road men will certainly not look upon this little 
sermon as a very progressive announcement. Be 
this as it may, I wish to make Mr. Roosevelt's 
ideas on the conservation of authority the text of 
this final section of this chapter. 

Of course this autobiography should be, in the 
main, an experience and not an argument. Never- 
theless, the story would certainly lose most of its 
significance if the writer lacked convictions, or 
failed to take to himself, and when possible to im- 
part to others, as best he could according to his 
light, the lessons to be derived from passing events. 

Combining a consideration of public problems, 
then, with the history of my personal progress in 
the surroundings of a switch tower, I turn again, 
very briefly, to what may be called the adven- 
tures of Dan. From the early East Deerfield days, 
this man, representing industrial integrity, was 
the type which at any rate formed the ground 
plan of the service with which I was associated. 
Society, of course, is interested in perpetuating 
the characteristics of this type, and directly in 
line with the desires and efforts of society in this 
direction come these problems connected with 
authority. 

Dan, then, was not only socially and industri- 
ally successful, but he was also a hero. In the year 
1893, 1 think it was, a heavy freight train crashed 
into and telescoped a passenger train right in 



160 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

front of the station at West Cambridge. Five pas- 
sengers were killed and about thirty were seri- 
ously injured. A signal and a flag were against the 
freight train, but they were both unseen or disre- 
garded. Dan, who lived only a few yards from the 
station, heard the crash and hurried to the scene. 
The engine of the freight train ploughed its way 
clear through the rear coach and was belching a 
torrent of steam into the next one ahead, when 
Dan, disregarding the warning shouts of the by- 
standers, scrambled, with a coat over his head, 
into the blazing coach. While the crowd hung 
back, terror-stricken, Dan dragged a number of 
women and young people to safety through the 
hissing steam. In after days, notably at Christ- 
mas-time, he received tokens of thankful remem- 
brance from many of these people, and in this way 
his personal satisfaction in his own deed has been 
kept alive from year to year. 

To the men in the signal tower at West Cam- 
bridge, however, this collision of trains, with re- 
sulting loss of life, was no mystery. They knew 
all about the signals, the flags, and the conditions 
under which they were operated. They were also 
daily witnesses of the efforts of the management, 
in the interests of safety, to enforce the principle 
of implicit obedience in the face of a rising tide of 
aggressive industrial assertiveness which, at the 
time, was backed up in various ways by public 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 161 

opinion. In this particular instance the coroner, 
one or two judges, and the newspapers united in 
placing all the blame for the accident upon the 
management of the railroad. The fact was lost 
sight of that every railroad in the country was suf- 
fering from the same trouble at the same time, 
with similar results. 

No substitute has been proposed by these or 
any other critics, to take the place of obedience to 
rules and the exercise of authority in connection 
therewith. Be this as it may, this accident at 
West Cambridge was used as a test case, and au- 
thority was driven to the wall. In the words of the 
then general superintendent of the Fitchburg 
Railroad: "The newspapers and the public may 
know how to run a railroad, but, with such handi- 
caps, I certainly do not." 

Some time after this accident at West Cam- 
bridge I left the tower service for a while, and was 
appointed clerk to the superintendent of the divi- 
sion, whose office was in Boston. I held the posi- 
tion for about eighteen months and was then sent 
back to the tower. I was removed from this posi- 
tion for the same reason, I suppose, that Mr. 
Hartwell, the superintendent, was also before 
long relieved of his duties. In a word, we were be- 
hind the times. The distinction between the old 
and the new idea in management was fundamen- 
tal. For example, Mr. Hartwell, on one occasion, 



162 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

eliminated a man who was in the habit of running 
recklessly round curves. The new solution of this 
problem in discipline is to eliminate the curve. 
Not so long ago, an accident at Bridgeport, 
Connecticut, on the New Haven Railroad, was 
doctored by the courts and the newspapers in this 
way. 

Mr. Hartwell, however, was a disciplinarian, 
and withal a splendid railroad man, from the 
ground up. In all cases that came up for promo- 
tion, he always insisted upon a thorough examina- 
tion of each candidate. In order to be trusted 
with a train, every applicant had to pass Mr. 
Hartwell's personal inspection. When that old- 
time superintendent left the service a dozen or 
more men were on his unavailable list. At the 
present day, thanks to the seniority rule, practi- 
cally every man qualifies, and accidents eliminate 
the weaklings. 

Some time before Mr. Hartwell's retirement 
from the service, a certain train crew, with, or in 
charge of, a crowded passenger train, left the 
North Station in Boston. The men neglected to 
make the air test before starting; consequently 
the train barely escaped a plunge into an open 
"draw." Mr. Hartwell discharged the train crew, 
just as the law would have deprived a pilot of his 
license for needlessly running his ship upon the 
rocks. But the superintendent's word was not 



CONDITIONS ON THE RAILROADS 163 

final. A number of influences were set to work on 
behalf of the men, and in a month the crew was 
sent back to work by order of the highest execu- 
tive officer on the railroad, who, by the way, at 
the time was seeking a military appointment at 
the hands of the governor, and was soliciting poli- 
tical indorsement. It detracts in no way from the 
importance of the issues that managers at times 
conspired to defeat their own interests. 

However, I got it into my head at the time I 
was working in Mr. Hart well's office that society 
was deeply interested in these two problems of the 
conservation of character and authority, and it 
became increasingly evident to me that the issues 
were as vitally concerned with educational and 
religious matters as with the railroad business. 
So I returned to the switch tower with the deter- 
mination to study these problems, and quietly to 
start a sort of personal campaign in their behalf 
with my pen. 



VI 

THE INDIVIDUAL IN MODERN INDUSTRY 



During the years 1896 and 1897, while I was at 
work in the office of the superintendent of the 
Fitchburg Railroad in Boston, my prospects and 
work in life were waiting, so to speak, for a mental 
decision on my part of the simplest kind. I was 
called upon either to get into harmony with a cer- 
tain popular movement in business life or remain 
on the outside as a mere spectator. Without any 
trouble at all I could have placed myself in the 
swim and taken my chances with this new system 
that was just then beginning to develop all over 
the country in industrial circles. The situation 
can be described in a very few words. 

On the one hand there was the scientific organi- 
zation of workingmen, and on the other hand there 
was the scientific organization of the details of the 
laboring process and of methods of management. 
While at the time my understanding of the situa- 
tion was somewhat narrow, nevertheless it was 
soon impressed upon me, in a number of practical 
ways, that a great change was about to take place 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 165 

in the status of the individual whether as a worker 
or as a manager. 

But just at this point in my business career 
when I was looking over the field and trying to 
figure in some way on my future in the railroad 
business, I happened to be in a peculiar mental 
condition. I was actually making a study of my 
mind, and in the course of this study I had come 
to the conclusion that in order to preserve my in- 
dividuality, it would be necessary for me to treat 
my mind as I would my business or my body; that 
is to say, I was called upon to direct its energies 
and superintend its activities. 

I look upon the occasion when first, in a practi- 
cal way, this idea of mind study took hold of me 
as a red-letter day in my history. It occurred 
during the break in my signal-tower service when 
I was employed in the office of the superintendent 
of the Fitchburg Railroad in Boston. This story 
of my mental occupation and interests deserves 
more than a passing notice, for the line of thought 
was closely related to the practical happenings 
that followed. 

For a number of years I had been attending the 
evening classes at the Young Men's Christian 
Union in Boston, and one evening, at a discus- 
sion club, I took part in a debate on temper- 
ance. I had made a special study of the subject 
for the occasion from the mental point of view, 



166 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

and no one was more surprised than myself at 
the interesting and instructive outcome of my 
investigation. 

Let me suppose, for the sake of my argument, 
I said to my clubmates, that for a year or two I 
have been in the habit of drinking every day a few 
glasses of beer. In course of time this beer-drink- 
ing habit became a well-established feature of my 
daily routine. But my disposition was such that, 
as time went by, I was not altogether satisfied 
with my conduct or with the waste of money that 
soon became a very significant feature of my beer- 
drinking career. So I went to work and read a 
good deal on the subject and then talked the mat- 
ter over fearlessly and confidentially with friends. 
Before long my eyes began to open and my inter- 
est to intensify. 

This brain of mine, I discovered, consists of 
what is called two hemispheres, one to the right 
and the other to the left in the human skull. One 
of these hemispheres, though composed of ex- 
actly the same material as the other, never does 
any work, or receives any sensations. A right- 
handed man always uses the left brain, a left- 
handed man uses the right hemisphere. Studying 
the matter more closely, I then discovered that 
the brain never shows any signs of life or activ- 
ity unless or until some sensation or thought is 
applied to it from the outside. My brain, it 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 167 

seems, is exactly like a violin. Not a sound can 
you get out of it except in response to outside 
pressure with which the violin itself has abso- 
lutely nothing to do. Now the mind is the bearer 
of thought messages to the brain as the bow is the 
bearer of sound messages to the violin. And there 
is no message in all the range of human life and 
experience that this brain of mine is not able to 
take care of and reproduce in the shape of lan- 
guage, sight, hearing, artistic ideas, or physical 
action. All these ideas and functions have their 
home in the brain when once they have been 
placed there by repeated sensation and the ac- 
tion of the human mind. 

In continuing my studies it soon dawned upon 
me that with my first glass of beer I deliberately 
went to work and hired a small area or tiny quan- 
tity of gray matter in my brain and devoted it to 
the interests of the saloon. As time went on, the 
route, that is to say, the avenue of nerves between 
my mind and the little bed of gray matter in my 
brain devoted to beer-drinking interests became 
a well-beaten thoroughfare. On account of its 
frequent use it grew in size and importance among 
brain activities and it was continually calling 
upon the mind to pay attention to its interests 
and consequently to forget and desert others. In 
this way the incessant call of the beer developed, 
in course of time, into an actual brain itch, and 



168 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the mind, disturbed and excited by the persist- 
ent irritation, never lost an opportunity to take 
possession of my legs and march me off to the 
saloon. 

But just when affairs seemed to be at their 
worst another factor put in its appearance. I, 
who had been studying this brain question, sud- 
denly awoke and said to myself, What is this 
brain and what is this mind that they should pre- 
sume to order me around in this fashion? The 
brain and the mind are my servants, my Will is 
their master. For the future I propose to run 
this business to suit myself. No longer shall my 
mind continue to use the beer route to my brain, 
to ruin my personality. In other words, I am the 
director and overseer of my own fortunes. My 
personality is king of mind routes and brain areas 
and so to begin with I will now go right to work 
and change my mind in regard to this beer-drink- 
ing habit. And thus, when I actually compelled 
the mind to neglect the beer route to the brain, a 
notable change took place. The beer route con- 
tracted from lack of attention and exercise, other 
and healthier routes robbed it of its function and 
importance, and before long my mind was in a 
normal condition. 

This study of the mind had more than a pass- 
ing effect on my fortunes. It increased the in- 
clination I already possessed to consider all 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 169 

phases of life from a personal viewpoint, and it 
opened my eyes to the practical relationship that 
exists at all times between the mind and every- 
day conduct and habits. 

Such, at any rate, was the individualistic spirit 
with which I looked on my surroundings while 
I was at work in the superintendent's office. The 
conclusions I arrived at, by means of this study, 
emphasized the personal factor in every problem 
and renewed my attachment to the men on the rail- 
road with whom I was associated and to the prin- 
ciples they represented. I refer now to the actual 
workers, such as foremen, trainmen, and super- 
visors, who, of course, were in no way respons- 
ible for the general policy of the railroads. 

As a matter of fact, at the time great changes 
were being inaugurated all over the country both 
in method of operation and in matters of manage- 
ment. For one thing, the accident situation was 
at last attracting a little attention, abuses in 
many directions were being discussed, and a new 
generation of wide-awake employes were coming 
to the front and receiving a hearing. In course 
of time, as part of this overturn on the Fitch- 
burg Railroad, the superintendent and the 
office force, of which I was a part, went out in a 
body. I was just close enough to the manage- 
ment and sufficiently familiar with the aims of 
employes to understand the nature of this over- 



170 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

turn. I did not look at the matter from the view- 
point of the politician or the philosopher. I sim- 
ply knew that a certain class of men of sterling 
character and unquestioned ability were, with 
practically no excuse, being turned out of office. 
The officials who took their places were also good 
men, but they belonged to a different school and 
they were called upon to do business in a differ- 
ent way. 

On all sides the general principle of merging, 
consolidating, and organizing was getting under 
headway and half a dozen railroads in New Eng- 
land had already been rolled into one. Mean- 
time, of course, business was expanding in every 
direction and, as everybody seemed to agree, 
was becoming too complicated for any form of 
personal management or control. Personally I 
did not take much stock in this argument, for I 
noticed that with increase of business no attempt 
was made to increase the number of supervisors 
or to retain in any other way the bond of per- 
sonal relationship. 

Be that as it may, personal contact between 
men and managers began to give way to a cold- 
blooded system of correspondence which at the 
present day has reached enormous and ridiculous 
proportions. Illustrations of these facts are quite 
interesting. 

I can remember the time, for example, when 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 171 

an employe's "pass" was a bond of sympathy 
between the men and the management. On re- 
quest any official could hand an employe what he 
wanted on the spot. He did not have to say to 
any man, Who are you and what is your record? 
He knew his men and he treated them liberally 
to the best of his judgment. But just as soon as 
the public and the politicians got mixed up in 
this pass business the employe's side of it was 
ruined, and every human factor connected with 
it was scattered to the winds. To the merchant 
the pass was a form of rebate, to thousands upon 
thousands of professional people in different lines 
it was a form of recompense amounting in some 
cases to a bribe. The railroads themselves have 
taken or rather been given the blame for this 
state of affairs. The recipients, on the other 
hand, seem to have satisfied public opinion with 
Adam's apology, "The woman tempted me and 
I did eat." 

To-day the employe's pass has lost all its per- 
sonal use and significance. It is part of the bond 
in many of the schedules. Apart from this, if the 
employe desires a trip pass, he must show in writ- 
ing that he is legally entitled to it. Instead of 
coming from the official just above him, it calls for 
the signature of one of the highest officials on the 
railroad. And the employe's application for this 
pass before and after he gets it has a curious 



172 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

history. En route to a storehouse for safe-keep- 
ing it probably figures in a dozen separate reports. 
It is copied into records, certified, approved, and 
stamped by numerous officials, clerks, and con- 
ductors until in course of time it has fulfilled 
the multifarious requirements of the Interstate 
Commerce Law. 

The working of what is known as the " Sixteen - 
Hour Law" furnishes another illustration of the 
alienation of the employe from the employer 
which has followed in the train of the new system. 

For example, time was when, if I wished to get 
away from my tower duties for an hour or two 
for some urgent personal reason, I could, with the 
permission of the superintendent, call upon one 
of the other men to help me out. For twenty- 
five years I watched this method of handling the 
business in a reasonable and human manner and 
never knew it to be abused. The management 
looked upon us as men. To-day, on the other 
hand, if I want to get away for a couple of hours 
in order to go to a funeral, my superintendent 
will refer me to the law in the case as promul- 
gated by the Interstate Commerce Commission: 
No man can exceed his time limit of nine hours 
except in cases of emergency, and according to 
the announced ruling in such matters, I cannot 
plead emergency for anything that I can foresee. 
But when a man is dead, I can easily foresee the 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 173 

funeral. Therefore the only funeral a tower- 
man can go to nowadays is his own. There 
is absolutely no encouragement for loyalty or 
esprit de corps in mechanical situations of this 
kind. 

Along these lines, then, on the railroads and 
elsewhere the severing of the human tie between 
the employe and the employer has been growing 
from year to year. Just at present there is every- 
where, in thinking circles at any rate, a tremen- 
dous awakening to these simple and serious facts. 
Whether the mistakes of management in this 
direction can be rectified or not is a question. 
The vital mistake was in depriving the immediate 
superior of an employe of the authority and in- 
dividuality that belongs to his office. 

On the other hand, it is useless to blame em- 
ployes for taking their cue from the mechanical 
system that pays them their wages. The busi- 
ness reformer along those lines at the present day 
has both sides of the situation to deal with. It is 
surely my duty, then, along with my personal 
narrative to describe as best I can these social 
and industrial movements with which in a prac- 
tical way I have been associated, and of all these 
problems this matter of the weeding-out of the 
human and personal elements in all kinds of work- 
ing relationships in America is, as it seems to me, 
by long odds the most important. Additional 



174 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

illustration of the matter, then, will not be out of 
place. 

The history of affairs in this direction on the 
old Fitchburg Railroad is a case in point. Here 
we have a practical demonstration, extending 
over fifteen or twenty years, of the tendencies, 
amounting in fact to efforts, of industrial man- 
agement to widen the gap and lessen the oppor- 
tunity for personal intercourse between the em- 
ployer and the workingman. 

n 

When first I appeared on the scene, the railroad 
territory now known as the Fitchburg division of 
the Boston and Maine, consisted of five or six 
different railroads or divisions of railroads. At 
Boston, Fitchburg, North Adams, Troy, New 
York, and one or two other places, superinten- 
dents had their headquarters. After the consoli- 
dation of these railroads and branches into the 
Fitchburg system, these different headquarters 
were abolished. To-day a single superintendent 
located in Boston covers the whole territory, and 
probably this man has in his charge six times 
as many employes as were originally taken 
care of by five or six separate managers. That 
is to say, no effort whatever was made to pre- 
serve a reasonable and necessary ratio between 
supervisors and men for the purpose of main- 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 175 

taining some kind of human relationship between 
them. 

A writer in a recent issue of the "Christian 
Register " comments on this phase of the labor 
situation as follows: "It is a curious fact that the 
recent strikes show that the alienation of the poor 
from the rich has increased in spite of the social 
interest that has been spent upon them." Look- 
ing into the matter in the case of the railroads, 
and indeed of nearly all other large industries, the 
alienation of the employe from the manager is not 
by any means surprising. The absence of this 
human factor works out to a logical conclusion in 
all efficiency and safety problems on railroads and 
elsewhere. 

A brief contrast of a personal nature between 
the old and the new methods of management on 
railroads, will throw additional light on this 
subject. 

My superintendent for a great many years on 
the Fitchburg Railroad was Mr. J. R. Hartwell. 
He knew each trainman, engineman, and station 
agent personally. He also knew each engine, its 
condition and capacity. He rode over his division 
each day and kept in personal touch with every 
movement, both of men and equipment. He was 
always abreast and in tune with every throb of the 
traffic. As chief clerk under Mr. Hartwell, my 
duties embraced business of every description on 



176 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the division. I hired the trainmen, kept the pay- 
rolls, and supervised the train runs and the plac- 
ing of the equipment. Correspondence of nearly 
every description passed through my hands. I 
knew instinctively what a superintendent of Mr. 
Hart well's character would do in almost any situa- 
tion that arose, and in his absence I used his au- 
thority freely. Under Mr. Hartwell's administra- 
tion both the employe and the public got a fair 
and quick measure of justice. In attending to the 
duties of the office I had the assistance of a single 
stenographer. Apart from correspondence that 
was unavoidable, however, there was an infinity 
of detail business that was attended to by word of 
mouth, by telephone, or by telegraph. 

On the other hand, to-day, if the business on 
any given division has doubled, the office force 
has been multiplied by six and the correspond- 
ence and reports by twenty. Matters of the most 
trifling description, to which formerly the man in 
authority said "yes" or "no," as he would in any 
private business, now have to go the rounds of 
the several departments and give work to a 
dozen typewriters. Everybody is busy reporting 
and investigating, business on the typewriters is 
being rattled off practically by the ton, and this 
kind of railroad debris, entailed to a great ex- 
tent by the mechanical administration of affairs 
and which is carefully tabulated and preserved 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 177 

for years to cover the law, fills acres of floor 
space. 

Altogether the modern railroad superintendent, 
his methods, and duties in the year 1912 present a 
curious study in industrial economics. I copy in 
part a strange, yet, as it seems to me, an abso- 
lutely truthful account of the situation from a 
recent issue of the "Railway Age Gazette." 
Nearly everybody in authority on American rail- 
roads, according to this writer, is engaged in in- 
vestigating something and advising somebody. 
Consequently, for one thing, it costs more to find 
out who broke a light of glass than to pay for the 
new material and put it in. Nobody is supposed 
to answer a question or a letter until nearly every 
one else has had a chance to "investigate and ad- 
vise" on the matter. A division superintendent 
of to-day, we are told, is anywhere from one day 
to a week behind with his explanations and ad- 
vices, and he has absolutely no hope of catching 
up — meantime, "the call-boy is doing to-day's 
business. Each outbound train depends upon him 
to furnish a crew." 

The train dispatcher, however, is the real storm 
centre of the railroad business. "He alone has to 
do with the present. He always has the informa- 
tion you want on his tongue's end, — with the 
same breath he tells some brakeman's wife on 
the 'phone when her husband's train will be in. 



178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

But," the writer continues, "when we close the 
door to the dispatcher's office, we shut out the 
sound of the telegraph instruments, throbbing 
with the details of to-day's business, and as we pass 
the doors of the various offices down the hall the 
steady rattle of typewriters indicates that events 
from twenty-four hours to a month or more old 
are being investigated and explained. They can- 
not possibly catch up with the present. How 
would an official feel to step to his job some morn- 
ing and find that he was free to supervise what was 
going on on his division that day, that there was 
no need to explain increases in operating expenses, 
decreases in net tons, engine failures, car short- 
ages, delays, accidents, washouts, fires, labor 
troubles, or why Passenger Brakeman Jones al- 
lowed some prominent politician to get off at the 
wrong station and thereby miss a scheduled 
speech. The sensation would, indeed, be novel, 
and it would take time for him to become accus- 
tomed to such a change in conditions." 

But while this mechanical way of doing business 
results, in my opinion, in confusion and inef- 
ficiency in nearly every department of affairs, the 
mental harm that has been caused to employes, 
managers, and society at large is, at the same time, 
almost inconceivable. 

Only by studying the situation in this light can 
one understand and account for the artificial rela- 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 179 

tionship that is becoming such a significant factor 
to-day in American industrial circles. 

m 

With the men of the old school on the Fitch- 
burg Railroad I was on very friendly terms and 
I was naturally much annoyed at the unceremo- 
nious treatment they received at the hands of the 
new system. In the course of a few years practi- 
cally every man of my acquaintance who held a 
responsible position on the Fitchburg Railroad 
and who continued to exercise any form of per- 
sonality or independence, received his walking 
papers. Some of the old officials fitted them- 
selves easily into the working of the new system, 
but many of them did not. It was not so much the 
loss of their jobs that troubled these men as it was 
the knowledge that so far as recognition was con- 
cerned their life work had been wasted. To the 
mechanical man of the present day dismissal is 
for the most part a financial consideration; his 
salary is the tie that binds; but at the time I am 
now referring to it was the abrupt severing of 
personal and business relationship and banish- 
ment from spheres of honorable work and useful- 
ness that cut these old railroad men to the soul. 
I do not think people at the present day have any 
conception of what this momentous change in 
relationship between employer and employed 



180 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

really meant and means to individuals and to so- 
ciety at large. To illustrate this point I am going 
to picture the process in actual operation as it 
concerns one of the old-timers on the Fitchburg 
Railroad when he was called on to get down 
and out to make room for the new machinery. 

Beginning far back in the seventies and for 
about twenty-five years following, one of the best- 
known men on the railroad was a detective, who 
was known all over New England as "Big Mike." 
In those days even the general superintendent was 
distinguished by a descriptive nickname. These 
titles were always characteristic, but their exact 
meaning was not always apparent on the surface. 
For example, Mike was called "Big" on account 
of his heart work on the railroad. By night and 
day the human side of his detective work was to 
him the ever-present and all-absorbing considera- 
tion. A few days before I left Boston to return to 
my levers in the switch tower, Mike came to see 
the superintendent on a final visit. The story was 
then going the rounds that some time previously 
Mike had caught a young fellow in the act of pil- 
fering from a freight car. For reasons of his own, 
however, instead of sending him to jail in due pro- 
cess of law, Mike, it was said, had simply taken 
his word of honor in some way and then let the 
boy go. 

Under the new system, of course, this was a 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 181 

capital offence. The management, he was told, 
would never countenance such proceedings. What 
was the use of machinery, that is to say, of clerks, 
typewriters, lawyers, courts of justice, and pri- 
sons, if a simple detective were allowed to settle 
the case of a young thief in this way. Such, at any 
rate, were the excuses and explanations for his 
discharge and he had to go. Just what a great 
honest heart was capable of doing in this detect- 
ive business on railroads, however, was probably 
only known in all its significance to Mike himself. 
Even to his friends and associates on the railroad 
the strange fact that he was actually running his 
department in the life interest of these embryo 
criminals was not fully appreciated until some 
time after his departure. In other words, here and 
there, in different places in New England, there 
was actually a scattered school of these young 
fellows, whom Mike at different times had ar- 
rested and after a personal investigation had be- 
friended in some way. By hook or by crook he 
had kept them out of jail and enabled them to be- 
gin life anew with at least one firm friend at their 
backs. In this way to an extent that is almost in- 
credible, Big Mike became a private probation 
officer on his own responsibility. In the younger 
set of these unfortunates he was particularly in- 
terested, for the reason that five out of six of his 
captures on railroad property were under seven- 



182 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

teen years of age. His regard for these youngsters 
developed in time into a passion for helping them 
out. In working out their reformation, however, 
his method was somewhat unique. To begin with, 
according to reports, he always managed to give 
his students a good sound beating as a sort of pre- 
liminary to a mutual understanding. One day, 
for example, he chased one of these embryo thieves, 
a brawny young fellow, into Walden Pond. A 
desperate fight in the water ensued. The contest 
was decided in the detective's favor and finally 
he dragged his beaten antagonist on to dry land. 
Instead of locking him up, however, he took the 
young culprit to his own home. He kept him on 
probation for a few months and then engaged him 
as his personal assistant in the detective business. 
To-day this student holds high rank in the pro- 
fession. In my hearing one day Mike explained 
his attachment to the boy, somewhat as follows: 
"You see," he said, "I never in my life came so 
near getting licked myself, and drowned into the 
bargain, as I did that afternoon in Walden Pond. 
I had the greatest respect for that kid from the 
start." 

On the afternoon of his departure, Mike was 
given a sort of farewell reception. Fifteen or 
twenty men from different offices in the old gran- 
ite building on Causeway Street, Boston, were 
present. The boys tried to make it pleasant for 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 183 

him, but he refused to be comforted. The work 
of a lifetime was thrown back in his face and he 
could not conceal his mental dejection. His desk 
or locker was in one corner of the room. Just be- 
fore he took his departure he placed the contents 
of this locker on the table. In all there were about 
fifty relics or mementoes of adventure. To each 
one of us he presented one of these articles as a 
token of remembrance, accompanying each gift 
with a fragment of the story connected with it. 
Throughout the proceeding Mike acted like a 
broken-hearted man. With that farewell to his 
old-time associates this champion of the human 
side in the detective business passed absolutely 
from the world of affairs. He went into seclusion 
and even his best friends saw him no more. One 
afternoon, however, a year or two ago, the writer 
in passing a public playground in the South End 
of Boston caught sight of him. He was intently 
watching his old-time favorites, the boys, at play. 
When he became aware of my approach, he 
turned abruptly and walked away, and then it 
dawned upon me that big-hearted Mike, like 
Timon of Athens, in the old story, had really 
and finally turned his back on the world, 

IV 

The most interesting of all my experiences in 
life so far have been concerned with the adven- 



184 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

tures of my pen. My setback in railroad life had 
a good deal to do with my literary activity. I 
soon gave up all thoughts of promotion in the 
railroad service and upon my return to the signal 
tower, I devoted nearly all my spare time to 
the construction of sentences. The thinking man 
wishes to share his thought with other men, and 
naturally the first thing for him to do in working 
out a programme of this kind is to cultivate ways 
and means of expression. That I was entirely 
ignorant of the rules of composition or of the 
usual requirements of a successful writer did not 
bother me for a minute, and as for my knowledge 
of grammar I did not give it a thought. But, on 
the other hand, I seemed to possess a faculty, an 
indefinable something that was independent of 
these technical foundations. I could at least tell 
a plain story in a plain way. And besides, back- 
ing up my craving for expression, there was some- 
how and somewhere in the storehouses of my 
mind an infinite array of sentences of matchless 
form and magical significance acquired during 
years of thoughtful reading, out of all which 
favoring circumstances there came to me in the 
course of time a sort of intuition of Tightness 
both of form and substance. To a greater extent 
than I can possibly explain a sentence has al- 
ways been to me a matter of euphony, not only 
in the measured ring of the words, but also, as it 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 185 

were, in the sounding significances of the thought. 
Such at any rate in my own case is the anatomy 
of style. 

Nevertheless, in making the best of my natural 
equipment a good deal of hard work was neces- 
sary. To begin with I simply went to work to 
practice the arts of condensation and clearness 
of presentation for their own sakes. The simple 
satisfaction of being able to put into words what 
I saw with my eyes and fancied in my mind was 
sufficient reward for the exertion it entailed. And 
I was assisted in my efforts at the time by a very 
commonplace incident. Shortly after my return 
to the switch tower, I wrote a short story on some 
railroad subject and sent it to a publisher in Bos- 
ton. It was returned without comment. I then 
sent the same article by way of a friend to another 
publisher, and the verdict from him was some- 
what as follows: "If the man works in a switch 
tower, in all frankness I say let him stick to his 
job." 

I took the advice in good part and immediately 
went to work on plans for improvement. I took 
Shakespeare's play, "The Tempest," as a sort of 
model with which to experiment. I studied the 
plot, the characters, and the scenes. When 
thoroughly familiar with these features I pro- 
ceeded to write the story in my own words, be- 
ing careful to leave nothing out, and weaving the 



186 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST [ 

whole into a straightforward narrative, contain- 
ing about one thousand words. I wrote and re- 
wrote the story at least one hundred times. In 
this task my ingenuity in condensation and in 
the presentation of my material was taxed to the 
utmost. The time and labor, however, were well 
spent, and then, just at the time when I was hesi- 
tating about my next literary move, my attention 
was called to a short story announcement in the 
"Black Cat." 

Ten thousand dollars was to be divided into 
prizes. Just for the fun of the thing I determined 
to try my hand. I was successful beyond my 
dreams. Within a year, in prizes and otherwise, 
I earned about one thousand dollars. For the 
time being I put aside all social and industrial 
problems and abandoned myself to the spell of 
this kind of intellectual enjoyment. An introduc- 
tion to one of my first stories, in which I describe 
myself as lording it over the situation like the dis- 
coverer of a new world, gives one a good idea 
of my mental exuberance: "Surely it is a good 
thing," I wrote, "to have a mind stored with 
treasures from all parts of the world. Puck has 
said it, — 'What fools these mortals be.' Not all 
fools, Mr. Puck; fools and knaves, and will you 
believe it? I am very glad that such is the dis- 
tressing combination. For I am one of the knaves, 
you understand, gloating over the perplexity of 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 187 

my fellows, to the end that I may secure material 
for moonlight reveries and dutiful subjects for my 
fancy to fling among the blazing logs in the fire- 
place as I, their king and conjurer, put them 
through their paces under the magical influence 
of my pipe and my glass of toddy." 

The enterprise of an imagination of this reck- 
less description could not possibly confine itself 
to this humdrum universe. In a story entitled 
"Squaring the Circle," I took a bold plunge into 
the hereafter. I was working as a telegraph 
operator at the central shaft in the Hoosac Tun- 
nel at the time, and one day with a companion 
I had the temerity to explore a subterranean 
cavern which I discovered in the vicinity of the 
office. After an adventurous trip and by certain 
means, which are fully described in the story, 
I found myself looking down through a small 
cranny into a globe, which probably fills the cen- 
tre of our planet. Stretching round and down be- 
neath me was a glorious arch or sky inclosing a 
pale silvery atmosphere. My amazement can be 
imagined when I perceived that this vast space 
was thronged with millions of tiny globes about 
the size of golf -balls, which were darting and cir- 
cling hither and thither with inconceivable swift- 
ness. Some of them were white, others again 
were coal black. The white globes, I noticed, 
were able in some way, in the twinkling of an eye, 



188 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

to transform themselves into little squares and the 
process seemed to act as a brake on their motive 
power, enabling them to float at will or to join 
themselves to other squares in the form of rings 
and festoons of striking beauty. The black 
globes, on the other hand, being unable to square 
the circle, ceaselessly wheeled and darted in a 
sort of reckless pursuit of each other. As with 
mingled feelings of pity and wonder I watched 
the endless gyrations of these black spirit-like 
meteors, I said to myself, "There is no rest for 
the wicked." On the other hand, when I turned 
my attention to the glorious throng of white 
spheres floating or swaying everywhere in restful 
harmony, surely, I thought, this must be the 
fulfillment of the promise, "The peace that pass- 
eth understanding." I managed to capture one 
of the little black spheres and take it out with 
me to the office at the central shaft for examina- 
tion; when I opened it, the contents, combining 
with the gaseous atmosphere in the tunnel, caused 
a terrible explosion and set the office on fire. 
For this and other reasons of a weird and creepy 
description, the telegraph office in the central 
shaft was immediately abandoned. 



During the years in which my chief intellectual 
occupation was story-writing I was engaged in a 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 189 

few side excursions which were not only interest- 
ing in themselves, but, as it would now appear, 
they were just what was needed to steer me back 
into a more substantial groove of intellectual 
effort. One day, I heard Mr. Samuel Jones, the 
then Mayor of Toledo, deliver an address at one 
of the Mills meetings in the Parker Memorial 
Building in Boston. He made a simple yet in- 
spiring plea for more brotherhood in our social 
and industrial dealings with each other. I then 
and there made up my mind to pay him a visit 
in order to study his ideas in practical operation. 
The opportunity to do so came in the year 1900. 
I made the trip to Toledo and spent nearly a 
week, several hours a day, in the mayor's company. 
I visited his office, his house, his factory, and in- 
cidentally I filled my note-book with observations 
and records of sight-seeing. I said to myself, 
"Here is a man who has the time, the opportun- 
ity, and the means to work out the problem of 
social and industrial relationship to a finish; what 
is his plan and what are the results?" "To be- 
gin with," he said to me, "I consider the whole 
question of better social and industrial condi- 
tions as mainly a moral one. I have given up hop- 
ing for or believing in regeneration by party or 
collective methods of any kind. I am not one of 
those who think you can vote righteousness or 
brotherly conduct into anybody or into any 



190 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

nation. All machine methods of uplift, whether in 
industry or politics, are futile. You might just 
as well go on to the street and take a dozen men 
out of a crowd, call them musicians, and bid them 
play as to try to vote a social conscience into any 
community." There was no concealing the fact 
that the Mayor of Toledo was an enthusiast. He 
had an absorbing sympathy for struggling mis- 
directed humanity, and his appeal was for 
brotherhood; cooperation not competition be- 
tween the units of society. His application of 
these ideas to the management of his own factory 
makes very interesting reading. "My brother 
Dan," he said to me, "has general charge of the 
place. We began work here in a small way in 
1894 employing six men; now we have over one 
hundred. We manufacture oil-well appliances 
and particularly a sucker rod which is an inven- 
tion of my own. Yes — of course it is patented. 
Do I preach against patents and yet use one? Yes, 
I am sorry to say Society compels me to. I sup- 
pose my excuse is that I can do more good with 
it than without. A man meets this dilemma in a 
hundred forms and must figure it out with his 
own conscience. In running our shop, we set out 
upon a basis of absolute equality. Equality in 
everything but wages, and I should n't be sur- 
prised if we include even that before long; as it 
is to-day we pay a minimum rate of two dollars. 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 191 

We pay no less to anybody. At the same time 
we have considerable work that could be done 
just as well by boys for less than half the money, 
but we don't want child labor at any price. Again, 
we have no bosses nor foreman in the shops. 
No ironclad regulations nor orders deface the 
walls. Of course certain things creep in that have 
to be stopped; for instance, newspaper reading 
during working-hours. Well, there is a type- 
written letter on a pillar yonder that states the 
case in a fair way and it is quite sufficient. It 
reads like this, ' According to our ideas of justice 
and equality, what is fair for one is fair for all. 
If one reads a newspaper during working-hours, 
all have the same right; obviously this would ruin 
our common interest; therefore let us all abstain 
from newspaper reading during our eight hours 
of work.' " 

In conclusion, Mayor Jones summarized his 
Golden Rule settlement as follows, "A shop with 
one hundred workers, the day's work eight hours, 
a minimum daily wage of two dollars, no bossing 
or disagreeable features, and a mutual insurance 
plan to which we all belong. For those who re- 
main with us six months a week's vacation with 
full pay, and a dividend at Christmas. So far this 
has amounted to five per cent on the year's salary. 
With the money, each man receives a letter of 
Christmas greeting and sympathy from the firm. 



192 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

A more inspiring and satisfactory state of af- 
fairs cannot well be imagined than this Golden 
Rule settlement, and it lasted just as long as 
Mayor Jones lived to direct its activities and in- 
spire it with his presence. Shortly after his death, 
however, the shop and the system connected 
with it fell to pieces, for the simple reason that 
the plan, without the head and the authority to 
superintend it, was at least one hundred years 
ahead of its time. A few years later, when I again 
visited Toledo, I found the whole splendid sys- 
tem had dissolved into its original competitive 
parts simply for lack of authority and leader- 
ship. 

This visit to Toledo broke the spell of short-story 
writing, although it was not until a year or two later 
that I finally withdrew from the field. Meanwhile I 
spent a great deal of time studying the social and 
labor situation and in visiting factories and busi- 
ness establishments to get in touch with actual 
conditions. And in connection with these studies 
I then began to write a little for the press. For 
instance, in 1902 I received an invitation from 
the manager of the "Boston Journal" to repre- 
sent that paper in the Pennsylvania coal regions 
during the great strike. My instructions were to 
report the situation just as I found it, regardless 
of personal opinion or newspaper policies. In 
this way I had the opportunity to get pretty close 



THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDUSTRY 193 

to the inner workings of a great industrial con- 
flict. As in the railroad business and in the man- 
agement of a Golden Rule factory, so in this coal 
region, among thousands of striking miners, I 
found every situation dependent on the conserva- 
tion of authority and the individuality of the 
leaders. I can never forget an interview I had 
with one of these mine leaders. He was quite a 
remarkable example of the second generation of 
foreigners. He could speak five languages flu- 
ently, three of them he could read and write. 
When I requested him to tell me something 
about the personality and influence of the labor 
leaders during the strike, his answer, word for 
word, was as follows: "Well, sir, I'll tell you just 
what I think about it. To begin with, I will say 
the operators want the foreigners and can't get 
along without them. The more ignorant they are, 
generally speaking, the cheaper the labor is. An 
American boy will seldom go into the mine after 
leaving school. Now, then, granted that you will 
always have these ignorant people in these mines, 
the question arises, How are you going to keep 
their passion in check and to improve their gen- 
eral condition, which I suppose you will allow to 
be praiseworthy objects? Can the authorities do 
this? Can their officers and agents speak the lan- 
guages of these people? Can they secure their 
confidence? Not at all. Well, then, I can. Now, 



194 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

then, all I ask you to do is to call upon the chief 
of police or the chief magistrate in any township 
in these coal regions, and if these people don't 
inform you that these leaders are, generally speak- 
ing, honest men and a power of good in the com- 
munity, they have certainly changed their minds 
since you have come into these parts." It was 
after considerable experience of this kind in 
mills, mines, and factories that I finally settled 
down to a systematic study of the accident situa- 
tion on the railroads. 



VII 

A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 

When a man becomes simply the henchman of 
a political party, a labor union, or a corporation, 
his opinions, as a rule, have a biased foundation. 
The necessity for a broader conception of in- 
dividual responsibility and exertion in all the 
walks of life is at the bottom of the philosophy 
contained in this autobiography. With this philo- 
sophy in the foreground of my mental equip- 
ment, I worked from the year 1903 until 1908 in 
the switch tower at West Cambridge, studying 
the service on American railroads from every 
conceivable point of view. The deeper I looked 
into the matter of preventable accidents, the 
more I became convinced of the personal nature 
of the difficulties with which the problem was 
surrounded. Here is a situation, I said to myself, 
that I can at least clarify and explain. On this 
one word accident I can now concentrate an in- 
dividuality that for twenty-five years has been 
trying to find an outlet. 

I Roughly speaking my breaking-in, physically, 
technically, and intellectually, had consumed the 
best part of twenty -five years. During these 



196 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

years, so far as material or financial betterment 
was concerned, I had been actually going back- 
ward. In South America when I was seventeen 
years of age, I received twice as much salary as 
I have ever received in the United States. I mar- 
ried when my pay was thirteen dollars a week, 
and I am sorry that I am obliged to crowd out 
this inner circle of my life-story with the simple 
statement that I look upon my married life as an 
ample and happy reward for all the disappoint- 
ments and difficulties contained in the rest of my 
experience. 

Just at present, then, I am concerned with life 
in the open. Before I managed to get a public 
hearing on the subject of railroad accidents, 
I spent two or three years in fruitless efforts. 
I sent a number of appeals to railroad managers 
in different parts of the country. I proposed safety 
leagues, badges, buttons, safety officials on every 
railroad, — anything to excite individual inter- 
est in the matter. Most of these ideas are now in 
practical and successful operation on many rail- 
roads. But from only one of the managers in 
that early period did I receive anything more 
definite than an acknowledgment of my com- 
munications. From Mr. Kruttschnitt, vice-presid- 
ent of the Southern Pacific, I received by letter 
the first actual recognition and encouragement. 
This, I think, was early in 1906. I followed this 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 197 

up by addressing the legal department of the Bos- 
ton and Maine Railroad, and the reply I re- 
ceived was as follows : — 

I have your letter of March 16th. I also re- 
ceived yours of the 16th ult., enclosing "Observa- 
tions of a Signalman," etc. I trust you will par- 
don me for not acknowledging the receipt of your 
communication. I have been away most of the 
time for the last month and have only just had an 
opportunity to read your remarks. I think it 
splendid, and I believe that you have hit upon 
some of the difficulties of our system. I am 
sending your paper to President Tuttle. 
Yours very truly, 
(Signed) Edgar J. Rich, 

General Solicitor. 

This letter led, by a simple evolution of events, 
to the publication, in the year 1908, of "The 
Confessions of a Railroad Signalman." 

Mr. Rich, of course, had no knowledge what- 
ever of my writings until they appeared in the 
"Atlantic Monthly," but it was his intense loy- 
alty to the railroad, together with his compre- 
hensive conception of the true interests of the 
public, the employe, and the employer, that 
strengthened my own position in the matter and 
renewed my devotion to the work in hand. 



198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 



It was in the month of June, 1907, that I fin- 
ally took the bull by the horns. In the June num- 
ber of the "Atlantic Monthly" an article was 
published entitled, "The Personal Factor in the 
Labor Problem." I knew just as well as the writer 
of this article all about President Tuttle's kindly 
feeling towards railroad men. To Mr. Tuttle be- 
longed all the credit for the harmonious relations 
that obtained at the time on the Boston and 
Maine Railroad between management and men. 
But unfortunately harmony was not the only 
consideration, either then or now, in the effi- 
ciency problems on railroads, although politicians 
and the leaders of labor unions may be of that 
opinion. 

At any rate, after carefully reading the article 
in question, I went right into Boston and re- 
quested an interview with the editor of the "At- 
lantic Monthly." I said to him, "Do you know 
what this so-called harmony on the railroad really 
means? Would you like to follow its trail and 
note by the way its actual significance in terms of 
service, — the relationship, for instance, between 
this kind of harmony and the railroad accident?" 
The nature of the editor's answer can be gathered 
from the articles that followed in the pages of the 
"Atlantic." 

Leaving these articles, then, to tell their own 
story of my subsequent work and activities, I wish 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 199 

now to devote a little space to a study of three 
well-known and justly celebrated men, who 
became interested in my articles on the rail- 
road business as they appeared from month to 
month in the pages of the "Atlantic Monthly." 

Not only are my interviews with these men 
never-to-be-forgotten events in my own history, 
but the studies are, I think, of peculiar and timely 
interest at the present day. In November, 1908, 
my study of "Three Presidents" was published 
in the "Boston Herald," substantially as fol- 
lows : — 

Some time ago I was accorded an interview 
with one of the most intellectual and cleverest 
railroad men in the United States. President 
Mellen, of the New Haven Road, is certainly a 
remarkably well-equipped man. My impressions 
of his strength, his versatility, his wide and 
clear comprehension of the smallest details of rail- 
road life, as well as of its broadest issues, are un- 
mistakably vivid and favorable. One of the most 
remarkable features connected with the President 
of the New Haven system seemed to me to be 
his physical make-up, his cast of countenance, 
and the structure or contour of his head. My 
first thought when I met him was that I had seen 
a very similar head before, somewhere in some 
art gallery. I was not mistaken, for later I came 
across the facsimile, which includes a remarkable 



200 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

facial resemblance, in case number two in the 
room devoted to Egyptian antiquities in the Bos- 
ton Museum of Fine Arts. The head is typical 
of a splendid intellectual era. At any rate, Mr. 
Mellen has a strangely elongated skull, with 
other Egyptian characteristics. His face is ex- 
ceedingly pale, and the features, while denoting 
great firmness and strength of character, are 
seemingly passionless and absolutely impenetra- 
ble. 

When I entered the room, which was of enor- 
mous proportions, Mr. Mellen appeared to be so 
solitary, so motionless, so statuesque, I was posi- 
tively startled when he turned his head. I write 
down these random impressions, just as they 
occur to me, for the reason that in every conceiv- 
able way President Mellen presents to us a re- 
markable contrast to President Roosevelt. Both 
are big typical Americans. Both are kings in their 
own domains, but they are not to be judged or 
considered from the same point of view. What 
they actually stand for, think about, and talk 
about represents schools that have little in com- 
mon, and the distinction between them is as wide 
as the continent, although their ideals are equally 
honorable and praiseworthy. 

In Mr. Mellen's conversation one listens to a 
discourse on commercial America. Standing on 
a pedestal he surveys American ideas, motives, 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 201 

and the swaying to and fro of public opinion as 
an astronomer or soothsayer might contemplate 
the system of the stars. Both the stars and the 
politicians are subject to the laws of gravitation 
which Mr. Mellen has laboriously studied and 
thoroughly understands. The impressionist con- 
cludes from his conversation that if we could only 
be persuaded to obey certain ordinary and com- 
mon-sense laws, all would be well with us. But, 
unfortunately, once in a while, from unknown 
causes, unexpected movements and catastrophes 
take place among the stars, and in like incompre- 
hensible manner, once in a while emotional out- 
bursts and romantic stupidities of public senti- 
ment play havoc with the commercial prospects 
of the American nation. The American Don 
Quixote, tilting at sentimental windmills, has 
over and over again dried up the money market 
and snatched the bread and butter from the 
mouths of thousand upon thousands of honest 
working-people. 

There is dry positive common sense in this 
argument, or rather, in this impression of mine. 
If the history of progress has any lesson at all for 
the social student, it teaches him that the prin- 
ciples which, to a great extent, are represented 
to-day by Mr. Mellen's commercial policies are 
fundamentally right. But we must not forget 
that these policies are commercial, not romantic 



202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

or emotional. The merging of conflicting inter- 
ests into harmonious systems under sane and 
watchful supervision means intelligent progress. 
In the smallest economies of life, as well as in its 
highest spiritual activities, we are all ardent be- 
lievers in and promoters of the principle of con- 
solidation and the merger. In the onward march 
of civilization we cannot escape from it, either 
on railroads or in the adjusting of affairs that 
regulate the destinies of nations, whose conflict- 
ing interests in the past have supplied us with in- 
centive to cheat and rob each other and to wage 
brutal war in the interests of conflicting religions 
and of different ideas of liberty. 

Of course this is only an individual impression 
of the ethics of commercialism, represented by 
the merger principle. In a general way the im- 
pressionist is justified in associating Mr. Mellen 
with progress along these commercial and com- 
mon-sense lines. At the same time, behind Mr. 
Mellen's calm and sphinx-like exterior there may 
be concealed whole worlds of emotional and ro- 
mantic philosophy, but the impressionist never 
catches a glimpse of it. 

In the same way President Roosevelt stands at 
the head of his own but a very different school. 
There is not a trace of the high-poised astrono- 
mer or astute calculator of commercial probabili- 
ties in his composition. Looking at President 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 203 

Mellen in repose you wonder if he can speak at 
all, but the face of President Roosevelt in re- 
pose is inconceivable. His face fairly ripples with 
ideas. The impression one actually receives from 
it is kaleidoscopic. The face is kin to the whole 
world; for President Roosevelt is an immense 
worshiper and his idols are the emotional, the 
romantic, and the spiritual ideals of the Ameri- 
can people. Along these lines he is the social and 
political magician of the twentieth century. He 
touches the ground with his wand and up springs 
a burning question. In furnishing these period- 
ical surprises to the nation he reminds one of 
Prospero on the Enchanted Island. Every once 
in a while he says to himself, as Prospero did to 
the lovers, "I will now bestow upon the people 
some vanity of mine art; it is my promise and 
they expect it from me." 

But President Roosevelt is practical as well as 
emotional. He is the preserver of the woods, the 
fields, and the rivers from the commercial de- 
stroyer. He is the patron of sports and the De- 
fender of the Faith. He is at once the God of War 
and the Angel of Peace. He is the guardian of 
home life, the reflector of the best instincts and 
emotions of the American people, and he holds 
their votes in the hollow of his hand. 

However, what I have written is merely a sort 
of historical impression derived from reading 



204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

and conversation. Let us now come a little closer 
and take a few snapshots of the Chief Executive 
of the nation at close range in his own office. 

On February 26, 1908, at ten o'clock in the 
morning, I entered the business end of the White 
House, and after making myself known, I was 
escorted to a small anteroom where I divested 
myself of my derby and overcoat. Ten minutes 
later I was ushered into another room of more im- 
posing proportions. A huge business-like table, 
surrounded by a number of equally serviceable 
chairs, occupies the entire length of the room. 
Lincoln's address at Gettysburg, a simple orna- 
ment or two, a generous open fireplace, and a 
small book-stand with the word "Cabinet," 
stamped on the volumes are the principal features 
of what I took to be the Cabinet Room. 

Before long a number of people began to file in 
and to form a circle round the table until the room 
was comfortably filled. At this point my mental 
note-taking begins in earnest. I was informed 
there were several delegations present, represent- 
ing educational societies from various States. 
The ladies were all handsomely gowned. They 
appeared to be intensely interested in the pro- 
ceedings. The men were equally well-groomed, 
but not quite so fidgety and anxious as the fair 
sex. Nearly everybody displayed a badge or but- 
ton of some kind. Here and there, however, 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 205 

among the groups I noticed a few undecorated 
and unimportant looking gentlemen. I was told 
they were Representatives and Congressmen con- 
nected with the delegations, and there were also 
two or three governors of states in the company. 

I suppose there is little enchantment in the 
White House for people who are already distin- 
guished. At any rate, these "already great" peo- 
ple appeared to be perfectly at home and to the 
"manor" born. One of them was perched on the 
edge of the table and persisted in swinging his feet 
to and fro in an indifferent school-boy fashion; 
another with his coat-collar turned up and folded 
arms, standing a trifle to one side, reminded me 
forcibly of the picture of Napoleon on the quarter 
deck. 

While I was in the midst of this interesting 
study, the folding doors directly in front of me 
were drawn aside, and I got my first glimpse of 
President Roosevelt. He sat at his desk dictat- 
ing to a stenographer. A large window in the 
rear of the desk enabled me to get a very good 
outline of his features. The head is remarkably 
square in appearance, so are the shoulders, and at 
the same time I noticed a decided and quite un- 
common jutting out or pouting of the lips as the 
words are dictated. Pausing for a second to 
think, the President's left eyebrow is lowered a 
trifle, the lips protrude, but as quickly part again, 



206 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

and then the squarely set jaw and the much-to- 
be-admired and world-famous rows of squarely 
set teeth are in evidence. You cannot say the 
President's clothing is extremely neat or won- 
derfully well fitting; the impression is rather that 
of a sensible work-a-day outfit, without a single 
peculiarity. 

The President's voice is deepset and musical. 
Emphasis and sincerity are its noticeable char- 
acteristics. "How do you do?" is the simplest 
of sentences, yet the President gives to it a differ- 
ent modulation, a different accent and emphasis, 
almost every time he makes use of it. He pos- 
sesses more variations of "I am glad to see you," 
than railroad brakemen make use of in calling the 
stations. "I am glad to see you." "Very glad, 
indeed, to meet you in particular, Mr. So and So." 
He rings all the changes in these little courtesies 
of life just the same as he does in all his policies 
and opinions in national affairs. 

But you almost forget his remarkable tact and 
kindliness of greeting when you watch the amaz- 
ing rapidity with which he circles the table and 
disposes, in the strongest and happiest fashion, 
of group after group of his visitors. Of course, 
every one of these visitors has some little hobby, 
some little pent-up speech, some neatly prepared 
and beautifully illuminated document with which 
each one in particular intends to arrest the Pres- 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 207 

ident, and actually compel his attention for a sec- 
ond or two. But nearly all of them were woefully, 
or perhaps I should say, happily mistaken. For 
he halted at each group just long enough to get a 
hint of its particular hobby, or the heart of its 
errand, and then, in one or two ringing sentences 
of congratulation and encouragement, he seemed 
to touch them all personally and sympathetically 
in some way. He was bubbling over with enthu- 
siasm on the very topic that appeals to the heart 
of each group. In the best sense he seemed to be 
all worked up, his face was flushed, the veins 
stood out, every word rang as sharp and clear as 
the blows of a hammer on an anvil, and every 
sentence was made into an opportunity to shake 
hands with about six people. But enthusiasm is 
always in a hurry, and everybody in the room 
seemed to have caught the cue from the Pres- 
ident. The ladies, in particular, entered into the 
spirit of the business; they seemed to understand 
and feel the tremendous task the President had 
before him, with the anteroom crowded and more 
coming, until positively the people seemed to 
hurry him along; they forgot themselves and 
their errands, and wished him Godspeed as if his 
mission was something like Paul Revere's on the 
road to Concord. 

In circling the table and the groups of visitors 
the first time, the most fortunate individual, as 



208 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

well as the happiest, was a mere boy. The young 
fellow was introduced to the President by the 
governor of his state. They had traveled a long 
distance to show the President a little mechani- 
cal invention of some kind. I am sorry I was un- 
able to ascertain just what it was. The governor 
explained it as best he could, while the boy looked 
on, nervously playing with his cap the while. 
At first the President turned it over and over 
again and examined it, as it seemed to me, rather 
listlessly. He had no time for mechanical conun- 
drums or puzzles. But suddenly, something 
about it arrested his attention, and he made a 
break through the crowd for the nearest window. 
Holding it up to the light, he gave way to several 
exclamations of astonishment and delight. The 
boy had followed him to the window — dropping 
his cap on the way. The President behaved like 
a child with a new toy. Then he proceeded to ex- 
plain it to the governor as explicitly and con- 
fidentially as if he had made it himself. Finally 
he turned round to the inventor and I thought 
he would surely dislocate the boy's wrist with 
hand-shaking. 

But it must not be imagined that the Pres- 
ident's voyage round the table was all plain sail- 
ing. At one point he was fairly buttonholed by a 
lady and two gentlemen. I watched them closely, 
because I noticed they were all talking to him 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 209 

at once, while he, on his part, in an attitude of 
amused astonishment, turned his head quickly 
to the right and to the left and then back again, 
in an effort to catch the drift of the medley. 
Watching the play, I said to myself, "Here at 
last is the real thing, Mr. President, — from 
Chicago, probably; I wonder how you will get 
round or over these noisy obstacles." My sus- 
pense lasted but a second or two, for suddenly the 
President, with a smile and a wave of his hand, 
motioned them to follow him into his private 
office. To the right of his desk was a lounge, 
very low-seated, very soft, and very deep, and 
just wide enough to accommodate three ordinary 
people on a fair squeeze. Simply in no time the 
three talkatives found themselves snugly en- 
tombed on this lounge with the lady in the mid- 
dle and the President on one of the business-like 
office chairs, planted squarely in front of them. 
It looked like an all morning session. In reality 
it lasted about three minutes. For the occupants 
of the lounge to speak above a whisper under 
such conditions was out of the question. The 
gentleman on the left nevertheless started in 
with a rush, but his enthusiasm entailed a cer- 
tain amount of bobbing up and down, which per- 
formance was faithfully and ludicrously imitated 
by his companions. They could n't help them- 
selves. You could actually watch the arguments 



210 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

dying away on the man's lips, and with it, of 
course, the bobbing up and down. It was plainly 
impossible to carry on any kind of conversation 
under such peculiar and uncomfortable condi- 
tions. The first pause was the President's cue 
and with pencil in hand he actually tapped out a 
couple of sentences on the breast of one of the vic- 
tims, at which there was a burst of merriment, 
and a second later the President was back among 
the crowd. Of course the scene from beginning 
to end was merely the impression of a spectator, 
of which the actors in the affair were utterly 
unconscious. 

My own turn came at last, and upon making 
myself known, the President gave me a hearty 
slap on the shoulder and exclaimed, "I am very 
glad to meet you; go right in there and sit down. 
I want to have a real talk with you." 

So I took a seat in his office, close to his desk, 
while he proceeded to circle the table with its 
new group of visitors, for the second time. I sat 
there for half an hour or more, but I was not for- 
gotten by any means. The President returned 
to the office from time to time for the purpose of 
giving me an introduction to gentlemen who 
were interested in the railroad business, and with 
whom he wished me to converse. But when fin- 
ally his morning's work was over, he seated him- 
self at the desk and proceeded to tell me how 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 211 

much he was interested in the problems that we 
are confronted with to-day on American railroads. 
Then he asked me a few questions in regard to the 
situation. I was about to answer when the Pres- 
ident turned to a bundle of documents that were 
stacked upon his desk and began to read and 
sign them. Naturally I thought it my duty to 
stop talking until he was disengaged, but he 
looked up from his work and said, "Pay no atten- 
tion to me; keep right on talking." So I spun out 
a yarn that occupied fully ten minutes. During 
this time the President had been busy reading 
and signing all sorts of letters and documents, 
long and short, and affixing his autograph to 
photographs and miscellaneous programmes and 
such-like. But I could see that his mind was in- 
tently fixed on his work, for every once in a while 
he would throw a paper on one side without his 
signature, and for this reason I could n't imag- 
ine it possible that he was also listening to me. 
Yet such was the actual fact, for later, when he 
gave me his undivided attention, he brought 
out the points of my argument just like a lawyer 
analyzing the testimony of a witness. 

But you could no more confine the President's 
interest or conversation to the railroad business 
than you could confine a rainstorm to a square 
foot of territory. He fairly revels among the big 
issues that are uppermost in the minds of stu- 



212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

dents of American conditions and civilization. 
He laid particular emphasis upon the laboring- 
man and his power and influence upon the desti- 
nies of the country. The bold peasantry, the 
strong-limbed, stout-hearted artisan, their coun- 
try's pride, are the national backbone. The main- 
stay of any nation is, after all, to a great extent, 
brawn and muscle. And yet he was by no means 
forgetful of the ethics of strength and the im- 
portance of character. For his own boy to break 
his collar-bone was a trifle, to breaking his word. 
The influence that the accumulation of riches 
has upon the national character was another of 
his topics. "What is your pay per day?" he 
asked. I told him. "Well," he replied, "your 
wealth bears about the same proportion to mine 
that mine does to the multi-millionaire. Not so 
long ago we heard that Mr. So and So was com- 
ing to live at Oyster Bay. The news caused a 
mild sensation, even among the well-to-do resid- 
ents. If there is anything that one enjoys at 
these small places in the country, or the seashore, 
it is the simplicity of our everyday life and of our 
surroundings. Yet one and all of us at Oyster 
Bay understood only too well that if So and So 
with his unlimited wealth and love of display, set- 
tled down in our midst, it meant good-bye to 
everything that made Oyster Bay such a delight- 
ful retreat. We knew our simple and efficient 



' A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 213 

servant-maids would be displaced, sooner or 
later, by butlers, in all the pomp of livery and 
buttons. Our modest pony carriages would be- 
come chariots with prancing horses; our unob- 
trusive cottages would give place to luxurious 
palaces, and our comfortable work-a-day cloth- 
ing would, to a great extent, be discarded for a 
mere display of fashion and expensive fabric. In 
a word, the money-god would soon become su- 
preme instead of the simple deities, whose wor- 
ship endears to us the woods, the fields, and the 
home. The nation at large has to guard against 
the same dangers that threatened our community 
at Oyster Bay." 

Then the President arose, and shaking my 
hand said to me, "I am very glad you came to see 
me. I wish to encourage you, and I intend to 
follow your work very closely." 

At this moment the chief usher glided quietly in- 
to the room. I honestly think he was half ashamed 
of himself, and no wonder. He held in his hand a 
final list of unfortunates who were still waiting 
their turn in the anteroom. I think the move- 
ments of the usher were a faithful reflection of 
his feelings. He came in and crossed the room 
sidewise, so to speak, and actually described a 
semicircle before he arrived within speaking dis- 
tance of the President. Merely glancing at the 
proffered list, President Roosevelt shook his 



214 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

head — a trifle wearily, I thought — and as 
nearly as I can remember the words, exclaimed: 
"Very sorry, indeed, but not to-day, utterly im- 
possible." 

A few months later I was afforded an oppor- 
tunity to meet the President of Harvard Uni- 
versity. As an impressionist I have very little to 
say about Dr. Eliot. I don't think he lends him- 
self, in the slightest degree, to an observer from 
that point of view. But just where the impres- 
sionist comes to a standstill for lack of material, 
the student begins to get busy. Without any re- 
flection on men of pronounced ideas and assert- 
ive personality, I cannot help thinking that as 
one approaches the highest levels of intellectual 
and spiritual achievement, the more difficult it is 
likely to become for the ordinary observer to 
"find the mind's construction in the face." Hap- 
pily, however, students and disciples are gifted 
with a keener insight. To them it is given to 
penetrate, just as far as they can appreciate. The 
intuition of such people pays little attention to 
appearances, and when they go forth into the 
wilderness to meet John the Baptist, they at 
once recognize the man whose image is in their 
own hearts. 

Nevertheless I think it is true, in the main, 
that in forming opinions of people one's mental 
camera is usually on the watch for characteristics 



r A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 215 

that jut out, unconsciously or otherwise, in lan- 
guage or behavior. The impressionist is eager to 
seize upon and to emphasize these obtrusions. 
At first sight this may appear to be a common- 
place method of securing material for intelligent 
portrait studies, and yet in many cases the indi- 
cations are reliable and one can easily detect these 
"hall marks" of a man's nature, which suggest, 
quite forcibly at times, his individual route to 
fame or fortune. 

President Mellen, for example, has certain 
well-defined obtrusions. Though unmistakable 
in their significance, they are nearly all of a nega- 
tive character. The conclusions you arrive at in 
regard to his splendid intellectual equipment and 
his far-reaching business acumen are all your own. 
They are the deductions or impressions which 
you have gathered from sources which perhaps 
you cannot even name. This kind of an impres- 
sion stands at the head of its class. Under its in- 
fluence your opinion is formed quickly and posi- 
tively, and you give but little thought to the evi- 
dence. The blind God himself works along these 
lines. You love and know not how or why. 

But impressions of the second class are alto- 
gether different. They are adulterated with out- 
side influences, and consequently they rank lower 
in the scale of impressions. 

President Roosevelt, for example, has a score 



216 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

of obtrusions of the most positive character. Your 
impressions of him are not intuitions at all, for 
the evidence has been placed before you, and your 
verdict has been invited. He first twangs his bow 
to attract your attention, so there is no mystery 
about the shaft that strikes you so fairly and 
squarely. Doubtless the impression you receive 
is vivid enough, but it is not an unassisted inter- 
pretation of your own, for your subject has said to 
you in so many words, "Take this medicine; — 
now what do you think of me?" Under such cir- 
cumstances many of us are as clay in the hands 
of the potter. 

But there is another — a third class of im- 
pressions. They are not easily or lightly arrived 
at. They rank very low as impressions and very 
high as interpretations. A portrait study derived 
from impressions of the third class is the most 
instructive and delightful of all. As I have else- 
where remarked, where the impressionist halts 
for lack of material, the student is called upon to 
consider the problem. 

During a conversation with Dr. Eliot, that 
lasted nearly an hour, I was unable to detect any 
mannerisms or obtrusions of any kind. I failed 
to note any marked characteristics, either of 
thought or behavior. And yet, while I was un- 
conscious of any offhand impressions, I was con- 
vinced that a little quiet studv would be likely 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 217 

to bring interesting facts to the surface. I got 
this idea into my head from the satisfaction I re- 
ceived from my interview. 

I called to mind the physical portrait of the 
man sitting gracefully upright in the armchair. 
While there was unmistakable dignity in the fig- 
ure, it was the apparent ease with which it was 
carried that attracted my attention. In fact, to 
me, the most significant feature about Dr. El- 
iot's appearance was the strange absence of any 
indication of weight or importance. As with his 
physical appearance, so with his conversation and 
movements. The same easy dignity, the same 
lightness of touch, was over all. This absence of 
weight or effort, where the indication of such 
might reasonably be expected in art and litera- 
ture, for example, surely denotes achievement 
of the highest order. On the face of the master- 
piece there are no traces of the price, in toil and 
thought, that has been expended in its produc- 
tion. In this way, after many days, perfection 
pays tribute to its childlike origin. 

Without doubt President Eliot has his likes 
and dislikes, but so far as I could detect, he has 
no quarrel with anybody. His kindly smile and 
the quiet emphasis of his manner impart to his 
conversation a soothing and satisfying effect 
which is very pleasing to the listener. There is 
no suspicion of dogmatism. He does not say, "I 



218 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

like this and dislike that"; but rather, "The situa- 
tion is so and so, consequently our work lies in 
this direction — there all the honor lies." 

Looking before and after, that is to say, from 
what I have read about Dr. Eliot, added now to 
my personal notes, I am inclined to focus my por- 
trait of him into two words, namely, penetration 
and radiation. In a greater and a wider sense he 
possesses the penetration of President Mellen 
and the radiating qualities of President Roose- 
velt. But he stands a head taller than these men 
for the reason that in his hands the fruits of these 
faculties are simplified, organized, and solem- 
nized. By penetration and radiation, I mean the 
ability to discover and spread abroad, in the 
sanest and happiest fashion, whatsoever things 
are true and beautiful. 

I think President Eliot is entitled to preemi- 
nence for another reason. In the course of con- 
versation it occurred to me that at the end of Dr. 
Eliot's sentences there is nearly always an im- 
plied or real interrogation point. He frequently 
halts in the middle of a sentence and invites his 
listener to pick up and carry the idea along. To 
me this seemed to be a delightful concession. 
While others are interested in their own hobbies 
and personality, Dr. Eliot, above all things, ap- 
pears to be interested in you, his visitor. In this 
way the element of self-forgetfulness is intro- 



A STUDY OF THREE PRESIDENTS 219 

duced, which is the crowning test of excellence in 
work and endeavor of nearly every description. 

Taking leave of Dr. Eliot as he stood in his 
own doorway, I called to mind one of Thomas 
Carlyle's most notable portrait studies: "The 
reader is invited to mark this monk. A person- 
able man . . . stands erect as a pillar; the eyes 
of him beaming into you in a really strange way; 
the face massive grave with 'a very eminent nose.' 
This is Brother Samson, a man worth looking at." 



VIII 

THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 



I now find myself, towards the close of my au- 
tobiography, face to face with the present day and 
some of its problems. To begin with, there are 
many reasons for looking upon the modern rail- 
road as the storm centre of political and industrial 
activity. The American railroad to-day in var- 
ious ways and with a significance that is unmis- 
takable, propounds to the people the riddle of 
social and industrial progress. Private or public 
ownership, which? That is to say, private or pub- 
lic ownership and direction of brains, of industrial 
standards, of business ideals, of individual char- 
acter? In other words, democracy or socialism? 
On the one hand well-regulated social, industrial, 
and political freedom; on the other, social, indus- 
trial, and political bondage. 

I The situation itself on the railroads, where the 
problem is now being thought out and fought out 
in all its variations, is very instructive. It abounds 
with concrete illustrations. For example, do you 
wish to experiment with an invention of any kind? 
Try it on the railroad. Would you like to test 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 221 

any social or industrial reform movement? Try 
it on the railroad. Would you like to know any- 
thing about efficiency results relating to the 
"bonus" and "piece" systems? Give them a 
trial on the railroads. Would you like to know 
the meaning in America of private rights and 
public utilities? Apply and stretch the ideas to 
the breaking point and then study the problems 
exhaustively on the railroads, and at their ex- 
pense. Do you wish to know to what extent la- 
bor should be permitted to dominate capital and 
to establish its own standards of wages, condi- 
tions, and efficiency? Just stand on one side and 
watch the game. It seems to be all the same to 
the spectators. Let the contestants fight these 
problems out to the end on the railroad. The 
railroad exchequer, the managing department, 
and the public safety are at stake. But never 
mind; the backing of a few votes is sufficient to 
dump anything on to the railroads for experi- 
mental purposes. 

Now the most important and penetrating fac- 
tor in the railroad situation to-day is the power 
of the labor union. The extent of this industrial 
power can be illustrated by a matter-of-fact 
statement, made recently to an audience in Mass- 
achusetts, by Chief Stone, of the Brotherhood of 
Locomotive Engineers, substantially as follows: 
"Practically speaking, I am not responsible to 



222 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

any one. I have so much power I really don't 
know what to do with it. It is simply running 
over." This statement is by no means a figure of 
speech. Illustrations of the nature and efficiency 
of this power abound. For instance, on July 15 
of the present year representatives of fifty rail- 
roads east of Chicago and north of the Ohio River 
met the official heads of their Locomotive Engin- 
eers' Unions before an arbitration commission, 
at the Oriental Hotel, Manhattan Beach, in an 
effort to reach a settlement of differences which 
recently threatened to result in a strike that 
would have paralyzed the industries of the coun- 
try. Increased pay, estimated at $7,500,000 per 
year, and better working conditions for engin- 
eers were involved. In presenting the case of 
the men Mr. Stone informed the commission 
that "Not only are the eyes of labor and capital 
watching the outcome of this hearing, but organ- 
ized labor the world over is waiting to learn 
whether the dawn of a new era is at hand, or if we 
are to take a step backward." 

But whether, in the words of Mr. Stone, "or- 
ganized labor the world over is waiting to learn 
whether the dawn of a new era is at hand, or if we 
are to take a step backward," may fairly be left 
to the judgment of other railroad men, more 
numerous by far and not nearly so well paid as 
engineers. A large and enthusiastic conference of 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 223 

these men was held in New York a short time ago. 
The object of the gathering was to protest against 
the extravagant demands of the engineers for 
more pay, which, if granted, would place a host 
of more needy and deserving men on the waiting 
list, so far as any increase of pay is concerned, for 
at least five years. Those who participated in the 
conference were the accredited representatives 
of the station agents, signalmen, operators, signal 
maintainers, etc., in the employ of the Pennsyl- 
vania, Reading, New York, New Haven and Hart- 
ford, Boston and Maine, Boston and Albany, 
Rutland, and other Eastern lines. The consen- 
sus of opinion at this meeting was that "before 
the higher paid classes of railroad labor should 
be granted any further increases from the em- 
ploying corporations, those employes receiving a 
much lower rate of compensation, but whose faith- 
ful and local service is none the less important 
and essential to the safe and successful conduct 
of railroad property, such as carmen, signal- 
men, agents, operators, dispatchers, trackmen, 
and the clerical forces, should receive favorable 
consideration of the supervising and responsible 
officials, as well as that of the investors in rail- 
road property." 

The question of the right of way of the Grand 
Trunk Railroad into New England furnishes an- 
other illustration of the self-centred policy and 



224 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

the use of its power by an up-to-date labor union 
on American railroads. On March 10, 1912, the 
Boston division of the Brotherhood of Locomo- 
tive Engineers unanimously voted to oppose the 
entrance of the Grand Trunk Railroad into this 
city, on the grounds that it will adversely affect 
the conditions of railroad employes in this section 
of the country. Word was received from inter- 
national headquarters that the Grand Trunk had 
issued a notice that the wages of all train service 
employes including the engineers would be cut. 
This action of the Grand Trunk and the compet- 
itive wage ideas of the road made it undesirable 
to railroad employes for the road to come here. 
Consequently the Brotherhood voted to use every 
honorable means to block the road's entrance into 
Boston. 

But this labor organization, justly founded, to 
begin with, to secure for the worker better con- 
ditions and fairer treatment, is not only found 
working on principles against the interests of the 
community, but it seems to-day to be placing a 
ban on constituted and reasonable authority. 
Just what this means to the people at large can 
be clearly illustrated by a glance at the present- 
day situation on one of the most extensive and 
best managed railroad systems in America. Under 
date of June 15 of the present year, the Pennsyl- 
vania Railroad Company issued a general notice 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 225 

to all employes, which read, in part, as follows: 
"Thirty-five requests were made on this company 
by its conductors, trainmen, and firemen. Twenty- 
nine have either been settled satisfactorily by the 
company or withdrawn by the representatives of 
the men. We are now informed that a strike vote 
of the employes will be taken to determine 
whether or not they are willing to leave the serv- 
ice of the company to enforce these six remain- 
ing questions." 

One of these unsettled issues between the men 
and the company was purely a matter of disci- 
pline or authority. The demand of the men and 
the answer of the railroad officials were as fol- 
lows : — 

"Demand. That Engineman H. F. Krepps be 
paid for time lost on account of a suspension of 
ninety days imposed upon him on the charge of 
low water in his engine." 

"Answer. All the evidence in this case has 
again been carefully considered and indicates 
that our former decision is correct, that the case 
was carefully reviewed by the best experts on 
this subject obtainable, and the conclusion was 
that the engineer was derelict. These experts 
were impartial and ex-parte. Therefore, no pay 
can be allowed on account of suspension. If any 
new evidence is developed, the case can be re- 
opened with the division officers." 



226 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

The conservation of authority and discipline 
on railroads is a matter in which the general 
public is vitally interested. During the month 
when this matter was being thrashed out there 
were something like eighty passengers killed 
and twice that number injured in two accidents, 
and during the past year one hundred seventy- 
one persons lost their lives and nine hundred 
thirty-one were injured in accidents caused by 
engineers running past danger signals. In fact, 
the year 1912 is already unfavorably distin- 
guished in railroad history for disastrous collis- 
ions and derailments of trains. In a recent issue 
of the "Railway Age Gazette" a superintendent 
has described the situation that, to a great ex- 
tent, accounts for these accidents, as it seems to 
me, in language that the public is called upon to 
consider with all seriousness. 

"When you get down to the facts," he affirms, 
"the superintendent is the man who bears the 
main burden of responsibility. He and his train- 
masters stand almost, if not quite, alone in the 
fight to remove 'the cause of causes' of accidents. 
But we must not forget that he is surrounded by 
influences which largely defeat his efforts and will 
continue to do so until there is a general educa- 
tion of the public to the real conditions and real 
responsibilities in the matter. 

"First, you have the man who, backed as he 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 227 

knows by the strength of his brotherhood, be- 
comes slack and acquires slovenly habits of mind 
instead of being wide-awake, alert, and alive to 
his responsibilities while on the road. 

"Second, you must not overlook the high-sal- 
aried general chairman of the Brotherhood Griev- 
ance Committee who ought to stand behind the 
superintendent and assist him in his efforts to se- 
cure safe operation, by discipline if necessary, but 
who does not. On the contrary, he is paid for and 
spends nearly all of his time in relieving men of 
discipline, practically without regard to the cause 
of the discipline. He frequently goes to the gen- 
eral superintendent or general manager and in- 
dicates that certain superintendents and certain 
trainmasters are not fair to their men and impose 
discipline when the men are not at fault. 

"Third, we have the general superintendent or 
general manager, who (perhaps naturally), see- 
ing the shadow of the great power of the Brother- 
hood behind the general chairman, listens to his 
story and not infrequently forms an opinion that 
this or that superintendent is unpopular with his 
men. I do not mean to say that the superintend- 
ent is always right, but I do mean to say that his 
efforts toward securing safe operation are largely 
defeated by the labor organizations which, by the 
efforts of the general chairman, are frequently 
able to have good discipline nullified. I also mean 



228 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST , 

to say that the general chairmen frequently inti- 
mate or openly say that they will take cases in 
dispute higher and have the superintendent's de- 
cision reversed when the decision of the superin- 
tendent is absolutely proper. Also, it may be 
added that they are usually successful when this 
is done. The large number of cases carried over 
the superintendent's head is sufficient proof of 
the fact that the activity of general chairmen and 
the influence of the brotherhoods are very import- 
ant factors working against safe operation. 

"Fourth, we have the public, always ready to 
criticize and rarely to commend, in whose eye the 
conductor is a semi-hero and the engineer a real, 
dyed-in-the-wool hero, who 'sticks to his post.' 
As a general proposition, I believe it may be 
safely said, the public stands behind the man or 
the labor organization and against the railway 
corporation in the case of controversy or accident. 

"All of these are unhealthy conditions, and we 
shall continue to have accidents as long as they 
exist. Automatic block signals and automatic 
stops will not stop them. It is my humble opin- 
ion that they will not cease to exist until the pub- 
lic becomes sufficiently educated to forget all the 
sentimental twaddle about the engineman or the 
conductor being a hero, and begins to look on 
them in a natural way as plain, ordinary men who 
have plain, simple duties to perform and no ex- 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 229 

cuse for not performing them. Further, the pub- 
lic must get in behind the superintendent and 
back him up in his efforts to secure safety. The 
other things will then take care of themselves. 

"If I have written in plain language it is also 
because I am interested. All the hand signals, 
block signal systems, cab signals, automatic 
stops, safety trips, or other devices you would 
place on the railway right-of-way will not accom- 
plish a fraction of one per cent of what public edu- 
cation and opinion may do to remove 'the cause 
of causes. ' " 

II 

But while the accident situation in the riddle 
of the railroads demands the earnest considera- 
tion of the people at large, there are also financial 
and industrial problems that are pressing for solu- 
tion. The demands of the enginemen for increased 
wages and better conditions, which has already 
been referred to in this chapter, is a typical case 
in point. On the Boston and Maine Railroad, for 
example, the new scale, as proposed, would cost 
$300,000 a year, and last year the road only 
earned that amount above legitimate expenses and 
indebtedness. If similar increases for other em- 
ployes were added, and this, of course, is inevi- 
table, it would mean that the Boston and Maine 
would not be able to meet the interest on its bonds, 



230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

and would be about $1,000,000 short of enough to 
pay the rental of leased lines. According to this 
understanding this would mean that the system 
would have to disintegrate. 

But from the people's standpoint there are 
other features connected with the demands of 
enginemen that are still more important. Neither 
industrial peace nor a solution of the wage 
problem is in sight, whatever these arbitrators 
may see fit to conclude in such matters. If the 
arbitrators should grant every demand of the 
employes, will they, the employes, be satisfied? 
At the end of a year or two there is no doubt, 
based on previous experience, that this country 
would again be confronted with a crisis. It is a 
great pity that the public should be alarmed in 
this way every three or four months and that the 
railways and the employes should be required to 
go to this expense and loss of time and never dis- 
cover a process of settlement. 

The power invested in labor leaders, with the 
absence of responsibility, is alarming. While 
they have the vote and endorsement of the men 
they represent, yet the moving spirit is the leader. 
In the past five years, for example, the Erie Rail- 
road Company has received five strike votes. 
The leader in charge claimed he had the power 
to stop the highways of this country, and ex- 
pressed his intention to exercise this prerogative 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 231 

of labor. To appreciate the gravity of this situa- 
tion let us imagine any other individual — a 
president of a railway, or its directors, assuming 
to stop the public highways for any reason and 
deprive forty to fifty millions of citizens of the 
necessities of life! There is no law to cover the 
action or determine the responsibility of the labor 
leaders who possess this great power, and who 
have repeatedly stated their intention to exer- 
cise it. The best test of their power is for the 
general public to attempt to pass a federal law to 
place responsibility upon organized labor en- 
gaged in interstate traffic. If the common car- 
riers are responsible to the public, as operating 
agents, why should not employes, organized or 
otherwise, be held responsible to some extent to 
perform their duties to the public, as part of the 
complete transportation organization? Organ- 
ized labor appears to resent every effort to apply 
responsibility. 

Doubtless the enginemen are engaged in a very 
laudable desire to secure an increase in their com- 
pensation, but the inability to pay was clearly 
explained to them. Such evidence, however, was 
not effective, and it is regretted that one of the 
strongest and most intelligent of organizations 
is not influenced by the financial condition which 
is essential to a proper solution of industrial 
problems. A president of a strong labor organi- 



232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

zation, within a year requesting a substantial 
increase, was asked by the committee whether 
he had considered the ability of the railways to 
pay, and where the money was to come from; he 
replied that he was not a financier and really did 
not know, and yet he had the power to stop 
the wheels on every railway in the United 
States. 

In the opinion of the writer it is proper to regu- 
late the common carrier, but it is equally essen- 
tial to regulate labor organizations engaged in 
public transportation. Organized labor is an in- 
stitution, and, in the conduct of quasi-public 
properties, it should share in public regulation to 
the same general extent, now, or in the future, 
exercised over transportation. The proper treat- 
ment of conditions such as these is manifestly 
the regulation of labor unions by the Govern- 
ment and the recognition, by public opinion, that 
in a majority of cases a labor union is an associa- 
tion of men or women dealing in an actual pro- 
duct and organized for profit. 

To complicate the riddle of the railroads, how- 
ever, just when managers and men are trying to 
work out a reasonable and satisfactory modus 
vivendi, the scientific engineer appears on the 
scene. As I look at it this feature of the riddle 
of the railroads to-day is most peculiar. It is a 
strong masterful situation, a climbing, struggling, 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 233 

hopeful situation teeming with human problems 
of tremendous importance, which are being 
worked out in a surprising way by certain forces 
that have never before had the handling of affairs 
in the world's history. 

However, connected with betterment work of 
every description in a democratic country, there 
are always certain drawbacks and issues relating 
to the wishes and conduct of individuals and 
workers that wait for consideration and solution 
at every stage of the game. In this way, and very 
naturally, the problems relating to scientific 
management on railroads call for a careful scru- 
tiny of the conditions and the men to which our 
scientific principles are to be applied. 

As a matter of fact, then, on the railroads to- 
day, the principal factor with which the scientific 
engineer has to deal is the employe. It is becom- 
ing more and more apparent to those who are 
carefully watching the trend of affairs in the rail- 
road world that the responsibility for peaceful 
or violent readjustment of railway conditions in 
the future will, and must, rest with these wage 
earners. And as far as I can make out, these em- 
ployes do not wish to have anything to do with 
scientific experiments in regard to their pay-rolls 
and their conditions. This is actually the individ- 
ual and collective decision of labor on the subject. 
The way the two forces, labor and management, 



234 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

line up on the matter is somewhat as follows: 
Scientific management says to the employe : 
"Look here, I am running this business and I 
have worked out and drawn up a scientific sched- 
ule. I propose to standardize conditions, opera- 
tions, and pay-roll. By this method better work, 
better wages and, withal, a true economic sys- 
tem of operation can be assured all around. I 
would like to secure your co-operation in the mat- 
ter. Your job is now going to pay a wage in a 
general way, according to the brains and energy 
you put into it." 

On the other hand the employe retorts : — 
"To begin with," he says, "I am not so sure 
about your position. In fact, I come pretty near 
running a good share of this business myself. So 
I may as well tell you right off, that this job is 
going to pay me not exactly what I put into it, 
but just as much as by hook or by crook I can get 
out of it." 

Of course it is easy enough for scientific people 
to suggest all sorts of economies and improve- 
ments. But the labor interest is a tremendous 
force on the railroad nowadays, and at all costs 
it must get along harmoniously with the manage- 
ment. In butting in and forcing the situation, and 
in trying to hold the modern manager up to pub- 
lic censure on account of his unscientific methods 
in spots and places public opinion is doing more 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 235 

harm than good. And by the way, what is the 
rest of the world doing all this time along the 
same lines? Have they, too, got the scientific bug 
in their bonnets? Not a bit of it. As a matter of 
fact, for a number of years past the railroad em- 
ploye, whom we now propose to doctor in this 
way, has been systematically pillaged and abused 
by outside forces in no way connected with the 
railroads that have no desire to be scientifically 
treated themselves. I am not one of those who 
believe in unnecessary muckraking, or in the rat- 
tling of dead bones, but the employe must not be 
deprived of his illustration, especially when evils 
still exist perhaps in modified form. So address^ 
ing himself to public opinion he remarks, "What 
do you think of a sum of nine thousand dollars 
awarded to the widow of a railroad man, whit- 
tled down to three thousand before she even 
got a peck at it?" I suppose public opinion 
would be still more emphatically shocked if 
I were to insinuate that even in a single instance 
in the confusion of a railroad wreck an arm has 
been deliberately and intentionally amputated 
instead of a finger on account of the extra re- 
muneration attached to it. Is this scientific treat- 
ment? 

But railroad labor is not satisfied with cloth- 
ing its arguments in figurative language. The 
more he thinks it over and studies the problem 



236 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

of economy in railroad work, the less he cares for 
the overtures of the scientific engineer. Of course 
it is too bad, and science and efficiency are sur- 
prised, almost sorrowful, when, in spite of all its 
plans and promises, labor remarks as Hamlet did 
to Ophelia, "I love you not," and the response 
in both cases is, "I was the more deceived." 
Be this as it may, the employe on the railroad 
to-day has also a solid background of business 
advantage already secured which, in its present 
stage, the public may not exactly like, but never- 
theless, the illustration I am about to give you 
will at least demonstrate the practical and finan- 
cial reasons why the railroad man interposes ob- 
jections to scientific treatment. 

For instance, some time ago I myself was 
called upon to work just one hour and a half be- 
fore my regular time to appear on the job — 
I got an extra day's pay for this hour and a half. 
The schedule arranges this. Is there any likeli- 
hood that scientific management will treat me 
any better? Again, I have in mind a certain train 
crew that works in a locality where there is 
switching to be done all day long between widely 
separated side tracks and industrial plants. Two 
or three times a week, on an average, this crew 
are called upon to drop their work and take a 
little trip a mile or two away from their regular 
stamping ground. When this happens they get 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 237 

an extra day's pay for the work, although it 
comes easily within the time of the stipulated 
day's work. 

The railroad business is honeycombed with 
illustrations of this nature going to show that the 
railroad man's schedule has scientific manage- 
ment beaten out of sight — considered as a finan- 
cial attraction to the railroad man. 

Just a word or two about the manager's side of 
the problem. In answering the call of the ef- 
ficiency engineer to apply scientific methods to 
railroad work, the very first consideration in the 
mind of the manager is the employe. To tell the 
truth, the railroad man is a proposition the rail- 
road manager cannot dodge. The position and 
prospects of the railroad men were voiced very 
distinctly at a mass meeting of employes held in 
Boston some time ago. The remarks of one of 
the principal speakers were as follows : — 

"It is the combined labor of thousands and 
thousands of workers that makes it possible to 
run a railroad. We stand on the industrial battle- 
field with nothing but our labor to sell, and we 
must have organization to say what pay we shall 
receive and what conditions we will work under. 

"It is my contention," the speaker continued, 
"that we must reach the stage sometime when 
every one employed on a railroad will belong to a 
union, and all the unions to one federation or 



238 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

brotherhood of railroad employes. When that 
day comes we will not need the injunction nor 
fear it. We can call out every man on the rail- 
road unless our just demands are granted." 

In applying industrial efficiency to the rail- 
roads this efficiency engineer has an awful job on 
his hands. Strange as it may seem, his principal 
opponents are the railroad managers and the rail- 
road men. The manager's position is easily under- 
stood. For the manager on the railroad is the ex- 
pediency engineer. All problems and issues are 
in his pigeon holes. Of all things he, too, desires 
efficiency of service and so far as possible the ap- 
plication of scientific principles. But as a matter 
of fact his desires and opinions in this particular 
matter cut very little figure. Amidst all the 
babel of divers scientific propaganda and the no 
less insistent demands and threats of organized 
labor, he is called upon to hold the reins in the 
interests of the whole people. Out of a caldron 
of industrial and political interests and factions 
on the railroad he must pluck by hook or by 
crook, in some way, the flower of satisfactory 
service. 

It is unnecessary to multiply illustrations 
showing the all-around benefits to be derived 
from the application of scientific principles to 
railroad work. Only give the efficiency engineer 
and the scientific manager half a chance and they 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 239 

will simply overwhelm you with facts and figures, 
the truth and practical utility of which no man 
in his senses will attempt to gainsay. But un- 
fortunately for the application of scientific prin- 
ciples to railroad work, the problem at the present 
day, as I think I have demonstrated, is sur- 
rounded by an industrial situation to which, as I 
look at it, all other issues are just now subordin- 
ate. In other words, the real problem for the 
manager to-day is not how to run his business 
upon the most economical and scientific prin- 
ciples, but actually and practically how to run it 
at all. 

Ill 

But there are political as well as industrial com- 
plications in this riddle of the railroads. Just how 
the politicians go to work in such matters would 
be rather amusing if the methods pursued were 
not so peculiar. I have in mind a legislative ses- 
sion in Texas a few years ago, when the railroads 
were quietly informed by the politicians that 
their constituents would require them to show 
results in the form of anti-railroad legislation. 
That was all there was to it. What followed was 
simply a surgical operation performed on the 
railroad with the politician as the "sawbones." 
No specific shortcomings on the part of the rail- 
road were even hinted at. On the part of public 



240 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST x 

opinion it was simply an appetite; on the part of 
the politician it was simply a job. 

An up-to-date illustration will enable us to un- 
derstand something about this politically influ- 
enced public opinion and its unfair treatment of 
railroad management and railroad employes. 
On August 8 of the present year, a passenger train 
on the New York, New Haven and Hartford 
Railroad was derailed near the Crescent Avenue 
Station, South Boston. Seven persons were 
killed and fifty-four were injured. The train was 
running about thirty-five miles an hour when the 
engine jumped the track, and, after bumping 
along the ties for a short distance, shot over the 
edge of a ten-foot embankment. The three pass- 
enger cars followed the engine. It was impossi- 
ble at the time, at any rate, to account for the 
derailment of this train. Henry W. Seward, the 
state railroad inspector, visited and examined the 
premises, and forthwith, according to reports in 
the newspapers, volunteered the following state- 
ment: "I arrived at the scene of the wreck at 1.15 
this afternoon. I looked for something that might 
have dropped, but found nothing. The roadbed 
seemed all right. The engine is a heap of scrap 
and I cannot tell the cause until that is re- 
moved. I do not think the speed could have 
caused the derailment. I should say that sixty 
miles an hour would not have been excessive 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 241 

speed, as the rails are heavy. We shall make a 
careful investigation and report the cause when 
ascertained. I could not even guess the cause at 
present." 

The division superintendent, F. S. Hobbs, said 
with reference to the derailment: "Something 
may have dropped. The train was on time. We 
are not limited as to speed, and forty miles is not 
excessive. The cause is not known and will not 
be known until I have heard the experts and ex- 
amined the evidence. To-morrow at ten in the 
morning I will have a hearing on the cause of the 
wreck." 

These reports are, under the circumstances, 
both reasonable and businesslike. But the de- 
railment and its cause which was so puzzling to 
experienced Government inspectors and railroad 
men was no mystery at all to Boston politicians. 
The Mayor of Boston, for example, was quoted 
in the newspapers word for word as follows: 
"From the condition of the rails and roadbed, the 
thing looks almost criminal. If anybody was sup- 
posed to inspect this place and allowed this state 
of affairs to exist, something should be done. If 
there is no official inspection, the sooner a law is 
passed compelling one, the better for all con- 
cerned. To me the track looked as if it had not 
been properly built. I was glad the police, under 
Chief Inspector McGarr, started immediately 



242 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

after the accident to make a thorough investiga- 
tion. To them I pointed out that it looked as if 
the foundations holding the sleepers were not as 
strong as they should be. It was a bad-looking 
piece of track, with the gravel loosely thrown 
against the ties. I asked the police inspectors to 
notice that fact and they did so, and had photo- 
graphs made. I believe it is high time that a 
more rigid inspection be made regularly of the 
condition of the tracks of all the railroads through- 
out the state. The lives of the hundreds of thou- 
sands of people who daily ride on the railroads 
of the country must be protected." 

Then again the Medical Examiner who per- 
formed an autopsy on the bodies of the victims 
was quoted by the reporters, as follows: "We 
found nothing to indicate that there was any- 
thing wrong with the engine, the brakes, or the 
equipment, but, in my opinion, the train was 
running at a high rate of speed and took the curve 
too fast." He probably arrived at this conclusion 
from a scrutiny of the wreckage. 

Hard on the heels of the fast-running theory of 
the Medical Examiner came additional light on 
the matter from the manager of the Boston Fire 
Patrol. He disagreed with the Mayor and the 
Medical Examiner. In his opinion, "the eleva- 
tion of the rails on the curve was faulty." He was 
able to detect this fact at a glance. The railroad 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS US 

engineers and trackmen, on the other hand, are 
not gifted in this way. The actual measurements, 
made by these men, tell a different story. 

Meanwhile, under such a hail of criticism from 
the lips of the ignorant yet highly responsible 
men, it is little to be wondered at that the public 
acquires erroneous ideas about roadbeds, about 
the employes who build them, and the officials 
who supervise the work. Public opinion, it is 
true, should have a say in the matter, but all poli- 
tical and semi-political attempts to misinform 
the public in regard to these railroad accidents, 
before they have been properly and officially in- 
vestigated, should be outspokenly condemned by 
right-thinking people. Notoriety acquired in this 
way, at the expense of roadmasters and section- 
men, is of the cheapest description. For, after all, 
it must be remembered that these roadbeds and 
tracks are in charge of section foremen who in- 
spect them daily and are responsible for their 
condition. It will take a wiser man than the aver- 
age politician to tell these foremen anything they 
do not already know about their sections or their 
business. The condition, position, and length of 
service of every rail and tie on this section is 
known to this foreman. There are at least four 
hundred thousand section workers, and over 
forty -five thousand section foremen on American 
railroads to-day. These men are just as jealous 



244 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST k 

of their good names and of the reputation of their 
work, and a little more so, I think, than any other 
body of workers in the country. They certainly 
deserve more appreciation than the average, and 
receive a good deal less. Not only is this true, 
but, in my opinion, this track-work which I am 
now discussing is probably the very strongest and 
best feature in all the realm of railroad labor at 
the present day, and the impressions on the sub- 
ject, expressed and published in the daily press, 
by politicians and others at the time of the late 
accident on the New Haven Railroad, were, in 
my opinion, very unfair to the workers who had 
charge of these roadbeds. The track-service, at 
any rate, is not yet vitiated by political influence, 
undermined altogether by the seniority rule, nor 
stupefied by the "bumping process." 

Just at this time it will be well for the public to 
read a little about the duties and responsibil- 
ities of these track- workers. Man for man they 
actually do twice as much work, both with head 
and hand, as engine men or trainmen, and they re- 
ceive only a fraction as much pay or appreciation. 
The section foreman is, to begin with, timekeeper 
for himself and his men. He is responsible for the 
safety of tracks, switches, waterways, crossings, 
and in many cases for switch and semaphore 
lamps on his section. He is responsible for track 
repairs and for emergency repairs to telegraph 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 245 

lines, bridges, and culverts, signals and interlock- 
ing; for the safe conduct of his men and car over 
main tracks without any safeguard in the way of 
train orders. He must know the time of arrival 
and departure of all regular trains and whether 
or not they are running late, timing his work ac- 
cordingly. He must be as familiar with the flag- 
ging rules as are the trainmen and enginemen. He 
must effectively police the company's property 
against all acts of trespass and vandalism without 
any real police power. He is responsible for the 
proper care and appearance of the permanent way 
and the fences inclosing it. He must deal, as the 
company's representative, with adjacent pro- 
perty owners. He has more than a hundred other 
duties to be found in detail in the rule books. 

The work of the ordinary section-hand is not a 
bit less honorable or painstaking. I have in mind 
a typical illustration. This man's first job in 
the morning and the last at night was track- walk- 
ing. During many years of my service in the 
switch tower, he was a frequent visitor during 
the night-time. It must not be supposed that he 
was called out or paid overtime for this service. 
The fact is he worked instinctively and the job 
was on his mind. The pattering of the rain or the 
falling of the snowflake was all the calling he re- 
ceived. In such cases he got up, came down to 
the tower, put his head in at the door, and simply 



246 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

said to the towerman, "How's everything?" 
And then, if it happened to be towards morning, 
he would take his shovel or his wrench, according 
to the weather, and sally out on his usual tour of 
inspection. 

The track-walker on a railroad is the eye of 
the foreman. It is a position of the greatest re- 
sponsibility. The man must be posted on the 
time-table and the book of rules. As he walks 
along he is on the lookout for fires of every de- 
scription. His business is to hunt up, and recog- 
nize, at once, a dangerous condition of track or 
roadbed. He carefully scrutinizes rails, switches, 
and frogs for breaks, or even indication of flaws. 
As he proceeds, he tightens a bolt at one place, 
knocks in a spike at another, or, perhaps, with 
his shovel, he guides a stream of water away from 
the tracks and into its proper channel. At the 
same time his eye and mind have business to at- 
tend to aloft and on every side. He must take 
note of the working condition of signals and in- 
dicators on his section. There are also a score of 
posts and sign-boards, every one of which has a 
mission of safety or warning. Above all, there is 
the "bridge guard," a matter of vital importance 
to trainmen. This gives one a pretty good idea of 
the track-walker's practical value to the railroad, 
and to the community. 

Track-work on the New Haven and Boston 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 247 

and Maine Railroads, so far as my experience, in- 
vestigation, and knowledge goes, is done on honor. 
This is the kind of service that the public and the 
railroad corporations are getting from the men 
who have charge of and do the work on these 
roadbeds. In criticizing the work on these road- 
beds the Mayor of Boston calls for an increase 
in the number of Government inspectors. In- 
spection is all very well but it does not go to the 
root of the problem. In my opinion, the probable 
cause of the derailment of the train at South Bos- 
ton, and of many other mysterious fatalities that 
occur at intervals all over the country is of a dif- 
ferent nature altogether, and only a short time 
ago the Mayor of Boston, in a letter addressed to 
ministers and others in the community, called at- 
tention, in a very specific manner, to the real 
issue. The letter to which I refer is as follows : — 

"Reverend Dear Sir, — Complaints of dis- 
orderly conduct on the part of young boys from 
twelve to eighteen years of age are constantly re- 
ceived at this office. Some of the playgrounds of 
the city have proved to be detriments rather 
than blessings, particularly at night, to the dis- 
tricts in which they are situated on account of the 
opportunities they afford as gathering-places 
for youthful mischief-makers. The police seem 
to be unable to cope with this evil, which is so 



248 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

pervasive and insidious that it appears to be the 
symptom of some general condition or disease. 
I am reluctant, however, to believe that the 
youths of this generation, so attractive in other 
respects, are less amenable to discipline than 
their fathers were. I should suppose that if the 
cause of these disorders could be ascertained it 
would be easy to apply a remedy. Among the 
causes that are commonly given is the weakening 
of parental authority and the consequent spirit 
of irreverence, manifestations of which are only 
too commonly observed. May I suggest that this 
phase of the subject might be appropriately 
treated in one of your Sunday discourses, so that 
the parents of these young people may be awak- 
ened to a sense of their responsibilities. I am sure 
the public would regard this as a proper exercise 
of your spiritual authority and service to the 
community. 

Yours respectfully, 

John F. Fitzgerald, Mayor." 

Now the interests of the traveling public de- 
mand that this matter should be handled without 
gloves. In his letter the Mayor of Boston informs 
us that the police are unable to cope with this 
problem of lawless behavior. My personal expe- 
rience and knowledge, however, so far as rail- 
roads and railroad property are concerned, 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 249 

prompt me to assert that turning the difficulty 
over to the churches to wrestle with is simply a 
method of avoiding political responsibility. 

For many years I have watched and studied 
the behavior of these gangs of hoodlums and 
other trespassers on railroad property. On the 
Fitchburg division of the Boston and Maine Rail- 
road, for example, the tracks between Waltham 
and Boston, especially on Sunday and holidays, 
are a public thoroughfare. During the summer 
months the trains bring these trespassers out 
from the city in squads, and they no sooner get 
off at a station than they begin their skylarking. 
It is impossible for the railroad police, single- 
handed, to cover the territory. They need the 
assistance of public opinion and the civil author- 
ities, and they do not get it. When the railroad 
people and the authorities fail to account for the 
derailment of a train, it is safe to say these tres- 
passers know something about it. 

During many years of service on the railroads 
I have been aware of the mischief -making of these 
hoodlums, smashing signal and switch lamps and 
twisting the signal wires, causing false indications 
of semaphores. But they do not content them- 
selves with throwing stones and twisting wires; 
they also place obstructions of every conceivable 
description in the frogs and on the rails. Time was 
when sectionmen and others made efforts to warn 



250 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST \ 

these trespassers, and, when possible, to head 
them off. We know better now. All kinds of 
"scraps" arose in this way, on and off the rail- 
road tracks, and after one or two instances when 
sectionmen were fined in the police courts for 
assault, and permitted to pay the fine out of 
their slender wages, a general policy of "hands 
off" was adopted. 

If this state of affairs does not point specific- 
ally to the derailment of the passenger train at 
South Boston, it certainly does to scores of other 
happenings of a similar nature all over the coun- 
try. The facts in the case, as I have described 
them, are written in the records of every railroad 
in the country. The railroad authorities are con- 
tinually investigating such cases. And this is the 
situation, and these are the conditions which 
Mayor Fitzgerald invites the churches to rectify. 

But the dangerous hoodlum is only one phase 
of the trespass situation in the riddle of the rail- 
roads. Trespassing on railroad property is a 
national affair of tremendous importance. A 
disaster like that to the steamship Titanic very 
naturally gives rise to widespread sorrow and 
indignation. And yet this is just what is happen- 
ing on the railroads, in the aggregate of fatalities, 
every two or three months, year in and year out, 
by reason of trespassing. The railroads, in one 
way and another, are doing what they can to 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 251 

direct the attention of the general public to this 
matter, but if the present type of politician is to 
be left alone to handle the business, the prospect 
for betterment is not very bright. 

A report on the general subject of trespassing 
has recently been issued by the Pennsylvania 
Railroad Company. Its police department, dur- 
ing the year 1911, spent more than one hundred 
thousand dollars in its campaign against tres- 
passing, or nearly one fifth of the total cost of 
maintaining the company's force. In the efforts 
of the company's agents to enlighten the public 
on this subject and to enlist the interest of magis- 
trates and other local officers, attention is being 
given more especially to these trespassers who are 
not to be classed as tramps — well-meaning peo- 
ple who use the railway tracks as thoroughfares. 
In this statement on this subject which has been 
given out by the company, it is said that on 
American railways in the fiscal year ending June 
30, 1911, the number of trespassers killed was 
5,284 and the number injured was 5,614. In 
fact, there are more people killed in this way on 
the railroads than from all other causes com- 
bined. 

At a meeting of the American Railway Asso- 
ciation, held in New York City, May 15, 1912, the 
following resolution was unanimously adopted: 
"That the executive committee of this Asso- 



252 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ciation is hereby requested to confer directly 
with the proper authorities of the National Gov- 
ernment, with a view to determine what steps 
can and should be taken to educate the public 
regarding the danger and results of trespassing 
on railroad property and regarding the steps, 
whether in the form of legislation or otherwise, 
that should be taken to stop this practice, which 
in ten years ending January 30, 1911, cost the 
lives of 50,708 people in the United States." 

The following table gives one a good idea of 
the frequency of unexplained derailments of 
trains compared with derailments from all other 
causes. It is an official report of the most notable 
train derailments that occurred on the railways 
of the United States for the month of August, 
1912. Unx. signifies unexplained. 







DERAILMENTS 














CAUSE OF 


KIND OV 






DATE BOAD 


PLACE 


DERAILMENT 


TRAIN 


KILLED 


INJURED 


4 


Rutland 


Bangor, N. Y. 


Unx. 


P. 





14 


7 


Virginia & S. W. 


St. Charles 


Unx. 


F. 


3 





8 


N.Y.N.H.&H. 


Dorchester 


Unx. 


P. 


7 


54 


9 


Mobile & O. 


Sparta, 111. 


B. rail 


P. 





35 


10 


St. Louis & S. P. 


Rogers, Ark. 


Unx. 


P. 


1 


6 


12 


C. M. & Puget S. 


Keechelus 


Unx. 


P. 


5 


5 


17 


Penn. 


Middle Pt. 


Unx. 


P. 





7 


18 


Acth. T. & S. F. 


Osage City 


D. switch 


P. 





17 


19 


Southern 


Lenoir City 


Unx. 


P. 





1 


19 


Boston & Maine 


Lakeport 


Unx. 


P. 





2 


19 


Texas & Pacific 


Mineola 


B. rail 


P. 





2 


21 


Yazoo & M. V. 


Roxie 


Unx. 


P. 





5 


25 


Cin. H. & D. 


Antioch 


Unx. 


P. 


1 


15 


30 


Mo. Kan. & Tex. 


Temple, Tex. 


Unx. 


P. 


1 


17 


30 


Penn. 


Conway 


Ace. obst. 


P. 

Totals 


5 
23 


19 
19.9 



THE RIDDLE OF THE RAILROADS 253 

In my opinion, the trespasser on railroad pro- 
perty hangs, like a shadow, over these unex- 
plained accidents. 

Finally, in summing up the situation on rail- 
roads, if the public would like to know how long 
private money, on the one hand, and industrial 
and political foolery, on the other, are likely, 
under these conditions, to continue in partner- 
ship, all they have to do is to study this riddle of 
progress on American railroads. The people will 
certainly get an answer to the riddle before long. 
In the mythological story the solving of the riddle 
entailed the death of the Sphinx. From present 
indications the American railroads may reason- 
ably expect a similar fate. If public opinion is 
willing simply to look on while all these different 
forces are fighting for their own ideas and prin- 
ciples, at the expense of the Government and 
efficiency of the railroad business, the answer to 
the riddle of the railroads will be — national 
ownership. In the opinion of some of us, perhaps 
of most of us, this last state will be worse than 
the first. To tell the truth, Government owner- 
ship of railroads is to be opposed, not so much 
for the effect it would have on the railroads, but 
on account of the results to the Government and 
to the nation. There is much less danger, how- 
ever, that the general public will demand public 
ownership of railroads and the taking of railroad 



254 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

property by the Federal Government than there 
is that the representatives and large owners of 
railroad property will become tired of annoyance, 
interference, political tyranny, and over-regula- 
tion of profits, and that they will play into the 
hands of the Government and themselves seek to 
bring it about. 

Standing on one side, as it were, without any 
political or industrial affiliations to interfere with 
my diagnosis, I have attempted to describe in the 
foregoing chapters some of the problems in the 
present riddle of affairs on American railroads. 



IX 

LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 



It has been well said that there is no other way 
of accomplishing things than by work, whether it 
takes the form of intellectual activity or manual 
toil. The man to be pitied is the idler. The person 
who has work to do and does it is to be envied. 
The idler gets what is coming to him — and that 
is nothing. The United States of America stands 
for individual effort and self-reliance. This is 
particularly true of New England. It would be an 
unfortunate thing for us if we all became merged 
into one mammoth society with individualism 
suppressed and personal initiative and effort dis- 
couraged. This might be socialism, but it would 
not be individual happiness. It is much better to 
preach the doctrine of the necessity of labor for 
the attainment of happiness and for the securing 
of contentment. These opinions and sentiments 
constitute, in a wide sense, the doctrine of indi- 
vidualism in modern society and in the mind of 
the individualist next to labor itself comes the 



256 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

problem of opportunity to be useful, in this way, 
to one's self and to the community. 

Industry, however, is a matter of capital as well 
as of labor. Capital, as well as labor, is useful and 
necessary. As it seems to me, it is difficult to over- 
estimate the debt of the nation to the far-seeing 
policy of some of its capitalists. It is not a very 
popular topic, but it has its educational features, 
and from the standpoint of the individualist it is 
worth considering. I propose to say a few words 
on the subject from an unusual point of view. 

Certainly one of the most astonishing features 
of modern civilization is the influence, both for 
good and evil, of the ordinary axiom, which, under 
our present strenuous conditions is permitted only 
too often to degenerate into a mere catch-phrase. 
An axiom, of course, is a self-evident truth, which 
is taken for granted as the basis of reasoning. 
Nowadays as soon as one of these high sounding 
catch-phrases succeeds in arresting attention and 
establishing itself in popular favor, it at once pro- 
ceeds to dominate the situation. In social and 
industrial matters nowadays, nearly all problems 
are submitted to the test of these popular catch- 
phrases. If the progress in connection with these 
problems is in line with and recognizes the truth 
of the catch-phrase the situation is supposed to be 
sound, otherwise, it is considered with the great- 
est suspicion, Perhaps the most overworked of all 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 257 

the catch-phrases that are now being exploited by 
public opinion is the term a "public utility." As 
a matter of fact, it is difficult for the everyday, 
unprejudiced mind to distinguish between a rail- 
road, a politician, and a potato, so far as their 
public utility is concerned. They all seem to be 
equally indispensable. Connected with them all, 
with the potato, the politician, and the railroad 
business, there are certain public interests which 
it becomes the duty of the National Government 
to care for and regulate. It stands to reason if, in 
the past, the government of a city or a state has 
looked upon a franchise or a monopoly as a gift, it 
has been sadly lacking in business acumen in giv- 
ing them away. But, in fact, there were nearly 
always enormous financial risks which, in the 
building and organizing stage, the givers of the 
franchise were afraid to shoulder. Once on a pay- 
ing basis, however, the franchise is called upon to 
develop in a different atmosphere. 

Let us take an illustration from the state of 
Oklahoma. Not so long ago the territory was a 
comparative wilderness, but in the end its oppor- 
tunity and time came. Of course the first appeal 
of a rising and energetic community is for capital 
to start and develop its industries and for rail- 
roads for transportation purposes. Only a year or 
two ago there were several towns in Oklahoma 
which were offering from forty to fifty thousand 



258 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

dollars to secure railroads from fifty to one hun- 
dred miles in length. People somehow and some- 
where must actually have put their hands in their 
pockets to provide these facilities. So far as pro- 
viding the money and taking the risks connected 
with it were concerned, this financial opportunity 
in Oklahoma was open to all the world. So people 
of enterprise and courage, people of small means 
and large resources, came forward with the funds 
and put the young state on its feet. These pri- 
vately owned railroads in Oklahoma were made 
possible by the efforts and good-will of men and 
women who had faith in Oklahoma, and to these 
people, in a large measure, Oklahoma owes her 
present prosperity. Borrowing the language of a 
writer who has studied the situation at first hand 
and on the spot, these privately built lines "car- 
ried the raw material, the men and the capital to 
establish a territory which has, through these 
same agencies, blossomed into a flourishing com- 
monwealth, in which the whistle of the locomotive 
has supplanted the howl of the coyote, and pros- 
perous cities, towns, and farms have banished the 
loneliness of the once desolate prairies." 

But now during the construction periods in 
Oklahoma and elsewhere, the radical reformer, 
the political demagogue, and the man with the 
socialistic ache, were not, to any extent, in evi- 
dence. The popular slogan was railroads at any 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 259 

price, and popular enthusiasm always leaves 
debts and obligations in its rear. The people who 
were calling for railroads in those days, regardless 
of obstacles and expense, spent very little time in 
trying to arrive at a philosophical interpretation 
of a "public utility," and they troubled them- 
selves still less about the economical anatomy of 
"special privileges." The railroad of the past, 
with all its sins, was the product of this state of 
public sentiment on the subject. But with the 
advent of prosperity and of a population which 
took no part in the original risks, or shared in the 
original expenditure, the situation in Oklahoma, 
and elsewhere, has changed. With the assistance 
of these people, public opinion in Oklahoma, for 
example, is preparing to repudiate its original 
bargain. It now complacently awakens to the 
fact that a railroad is a "public utility," to which 
are attached all sorts of "special privileges," 
which those who built the railroads are now actu- 
ally turning into dollars and cents to the tune, in 
some cases, of from four to six per cent on their 
cash investments. This, of course, will never do. 
The railroads have been secured and prosperity 
has followed them, and the problem now is to de- 
fine a "public utility" in terms that will enable 
the politician to uproot most of the special priv- 
ileges connected with them. 

Again, we frequently hear the term "water" 



260 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

applied to railroads or railroad stock. To hear 
some people talk, one would think it only on a 
railroad where this kind of financial liquid is to be 
found. Generally speaking, of course, "water" is 
a fictitious value which is not a part of the capital 
invested in the railroad. So is the good- will of any 
business for that matter. It is up to the purchaser 
to guess what they are severally worth. An eight 
P.M. edition of a newspaper on the streets at noon, 
has also a fictitious value. But, as a matter of 
fact, on the railroads this "water" frequently 
means more money for people outside the railroad 
than within. It was the prospect of this increased 
value, that is to say, a sort of good-will that was 
reflected for miles around every railroad, that 
made the building of most railroads possible. 

Ex-president Roosevelt says in one of his edi- 
torials in "The Outlook": "As regards these big 
corporations every dollar received should repre- 
sent a dollar's worth of service rendered; not 
gambling in stocks, but service rendered." 

There seems to be only one side to this philo- 
sophy. Two dollars' worth of service for one dollar 
received is the other side of the consideration. 
For example, the advent of the Kansas City 
Southern Railroad, it has been said, enabled fifty 
thousand people to find employment in mills, 
forests, and stores. The average wage of these 
people was said to be two dollars per diem. Here 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE/ 261 

is one hundred thousand dollars a day increase in 
the earning capacity of American men. I am not 
by any means an apologist for stock gambling of 
any kind. So far as the railroads are concerned 
"water" has had its day and its uses. 

Another familiar catch-phrase which has a good 
deal to do with capital and labor is "Equality of 
opportunity." Some time ago Ex-president 
Roosevelt, in an editorial in "The Outlook," took 
the following stand on the subject : — 

"We take the view," he wrote, "that our gov- 
ernment is intended to provide equality of oppor- 
tunity for all men, so far as wise human action can 
provide it; for the object of government by the 
people is the welfare of the people." 

To begin with, this declaration of Mr. Roose- 
velt does not contain a suspicion or a hint of the 
practical difficulties connected with it. As a mat- 
ter of fact, opportunity is one thing, and equality 
of opportunity is a different affair altogether. 
Opportunity has, at all times, a practical working 
basis; equality of opportunity is a sort of political 
invention that has the effect, if not the design, of 
educating the people to the idea that equality is a 
fundamental of progress, which idea, of course, 
leads to all sorts of schemes for the mere mechani- 
cal and legislative division of property. For, after 
all, these catch-phrases must not be taken at their 
face meaning or value. Practically speaking, they 



262 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

represent the significance applied to them by 
politicians for political purposes. On the whole, 
then, equality of opportunity must be looked 
upon as a slippery and a dangerous formula which 
should, at all times, be prescribed with extreme 
caution and hesitation. In the political life of the 
day it is used as a text by means of which the 
people are being notified that the reformers have 
discovered a new principle of progress, apart from 
and superior to the clashing of inequalities, which, 
in matters great and small, is cosmic and eternal. 
On the flimsy and unreal foundation of this popu- 
lar catch-phrase all sorts of social and industrial 
iniquities are creeping into the body politic, such 
as wholesale interference with management on 
railroads, the leveling process and the seniority 
rule, and in general all sorts of spoliation theories, 
aimed by politicians indiscriminately at the suc- 
cessful, the industrious, and the rich. Correctly 
interpreted, of course, equality of opportunity 
refers to educational, political, and industrial 
facilities and privileges. Applied to the railroads 
it simply, and properly, means that the corpora- 
tions of the country should be so regulated as to 
prevent discrimination or injustice to the public, 
giving equal and fair treatment to all, with favor- 
itism to none. But so long as men are born in 
different places, with differing faces and differing 
physical and mental advantages, even equality of 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 263 

opportunity will not really equalize matters. But 
taking it for granted that equality of opportunity 
is to be looked upon as one of the fundamentals of 
progressive civilization, what an astounding way 
society, at the present day, has of putting this 
ideal into practical form and of manifesting its 
"wise human action." 

For example, the County Court of Jackson 
County, Missouri, has officially declared that only 
union labor shall be employed in doing county 
work, and the ruling goes to the extent of pre- 
scribing that the union label shall be on all county 
printing. This means much more than appears on 
the surface; it means that thousands of men who 
do not belong to organized labor must be denied 
any employment furnished by the county; it 
means that many firms, with possibly millions of 
dollars in the aggregate invested, must be barred 
from all participation in the profits of county 
work of all kinds. 

To tell the truth it is not only in the West 
where this kind of equality of opportunity is 
openly advocated. Only a few weeks ago the fol- 
lowing news item was printed in a Waltham 
newspaper: "Through a committee of two of its 
members, Local 328 of the Coal Drivers' union, 
which includes drivers employed by coal dealers 
in Waltham, Newton and Watertown, has lodged 
a protest with Mayor Duane against the hand- 



264 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

ling of coal for use in municipal buildings by non- 
union men." 

But the enslavement of labor to the will of the 
Unions is not confined to the efforts of a county 
court in Missouri. An article printed some time 
ago in the "Ohio Journal of Commerce" throws 
much light on the subject from a wider point of 
view. The article, in part, is as follows: — 

"The Town Booster par excellence is a member 
of this 78th General Assembly of Ohio. His name 
is Smith, christened William Theodore. He is a 
democrat and he hails from Marion, Ohio. Smith 
is the author of a bill to open the doors of oppor- 
tunity to young men whose parents are unable 
to give them an education fitting them for a pro- 
fession. Here's the whole bill, told in its first 
paragraph: — 

"'It shall be unlawful for any person or com- 
bination of persons to prevent, attempt to pre- 
vent, or combine to prevent, any apprentices from 
learning useful trades or restricting the number 
thereof who can learn such trades, or in any 
way interfering with their employment as such 
apprentices.' 

"The bill was on hearing before the committee 
and the representation of union labor men was 
one of the largest ever seen in the General Assem- 
bly. Labor put its best speakers to the fore. They 
assailed the bill bitterly, its author as well, and 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 265 

the town he represented. They insisted on the 
right of union labor to dictate to employers when 
they should employ apprentices and how many; 
its author's purpose was to fry fat for corpora- 
tions, they said; his home town of Marion, they 
asserted, was notorious all over the world for its 
poor mechanics and its inferior manufactured 
products. Smith sat silent under the imputations 
cast upon his motives, but when the labor 
speakers jumped on his town he blew up. 

"'Come up to my town of Marion,' he shouted, 
'and I'll show you a town that has n't a tender- 
loin. I'll show you a town that has n't a single 
tough street. I'll show you a town that has more 
workmen who own their own homes than any of 
its size in the world — and it is not a union labor 
town. I '11 show you a town that has more paving 
and more stone sidewalks than any of you ever 
heard of. 

" ' Come up to my town of Marion and I '11 show 
you the Susquehanna Silk Mills, worth over a 
million dollars, and its more than four hundred 
employes weaving the fabrics seen on feminine 
backs wherever silk is worn. I'll show you the 
Huber Company, with its eight hundred work- 
men, producing threshers, traction engines, and 
separators that win the award of merit wherever 
they compete. I'll show you the Marion Steam 
Shovel Company, with its two thousand men, 



266 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

soon to be increased to two thousand five hundred, 
manufacturing steam shovels, log loaders and 
dredges; the company whose product you'll now 
find on the Panama Canal, bought by the United 
States Government at a higher price than any 
other shovel or dredge-making company dared ask. 

"'Come up to my town of Marion and tell the 
workmen there that they are the poorest workmen 
and produce the poorest goods and they'll show 
you a better town to live in, a better town to do 
business in, and a better town to die in than you 
in your egotism and ignorance ever dreamed of. 
Furthermore, I '11 show you a town where we don't 
say to the young man, "You cannot learn a trade 
because some day you may crowd me out of my 
job " ; where we don't say to the young man, "You 
shall not be permitted to be a machinist, a car- 
penter, a bricklayer, a metal polisher, a moulder "; 
where we don't say to the young man, "Go dig a 
ditch or get a job driving a hack." In a word I'll 
show you a community of industry, of intelli- 
gence, of morality. 

" ' Come up to my town of Marion and I '11 show 
you a town where we try to live decently and hon- 
estly, and where we are not afraid to let others try 
to live as well. I'll show you a town where we 
have opportunity — where we make opportunity 
— a town where we are not so selfish or so bigoted 
that we would deny opportunity to others." : 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 267 

II 

Some time ago, addressing an audience in Bos- 
ton, Ex-president Eliot of Harvard University 
made the following statement: "The trade- 
unions take a strong hand in reducing the personal 
independence and practical liberty of the journey- 
men in their respective trades. Of one thing, 
however, we may be assured, namely, that indus- 
trial freedom will not be promoted by measures 
which diminish personal self-reliance, voluntary 
industry and ambition, and earnestness in work. 
Whatever deprives a man of a personal, individual 
motive for self-improvement and robust exertion 
will not make him freer, but, on the contrary, 
more servile, and, in the long run, less intelligent, 
industrious and free, for freedom is a matter of 
character and will power. Does not American 
experience in the nineteenth century go to show 
that political freedom is of limited value unless it 
is accompanied by genuine social and industrial 
freedom, and that social and industrial freedom 
are essential to the maintenance of every other 
kind of desirable freedom?" 

The strike of the shopmen on the Harriman 
Lines some time ago threw into clear relief the 
nature and extent of the industrial anarchy with 
which the nation is now threatened. Behind the 
federation of these shopmen were certain de- 



268 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

mands, such as increase in pay and reduction in 
hours of work. But apart from such natural and 
reasonable demands there were others of a much 
more questionable nature, such as the "closed 
shop," the abolition of the requirements of physi- 
cal examinations, and the furnishing of personal 
records of candidates for employment. By these 
methods only, of course, can the fitness of candi- 
dates for employment be judged. These reason- 
able restrictions have been vetoed by the Feder- 
ation of Shopmen. A gigantic combination of this 
nature, unregulated and unchecked, manifestly 
endangers the efficiency and safety of the entire 
railroad service, as well as the business interests of 
the people as a whole. So the question naturally 
arises as to who is going to regulate and restrain 
confederations of this nature in the same way that 
capital and the interests of capital are being regu- 
lated. Managers of railroads and those who are 
responsible to the public for efficiency and safety 
in operation are sorely puzzled nowadays in trying 
to keep their heads above water. In July of the 
present year, W. L. Park, Vice-president and 
General Manager of the Illinois Central Railroad, 
in a public discussion of these matters, spoke 
frankly of the serious way in which the railways 
were hampered, and their efficiency reduced, by 
the unreasonable attitude of the labor organiza- 
tions which are struggling under the yokes of 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 269 

ignorant and corrupt leadership. There has been 
too much managerial caution in this country for the 
good of the railways. When organized labor at- 
tempts to dictate who shall be employed, regard- 
less of capability, and who shall be foremen, 
regardless of all qualifications other than seniority 
or unionism, it is digging a pitfall into which it, 
or the employers, must eventually disappear. 
When these organizations begin to realize that 
they are to man the railways and that managers 
must be left to manage them, they can begin to 
really better their condition. No business can 
prosper saturated with disloyalty and steeped in 
incompetency and bred by labor-restricting fana- 
tics. The time is opportune to improve condi- 
tions. The men are sick of the mistakes of their 
leaders and are ready to do business on business 
principles. Labor will find no great difficulty in 
reaching common ground with the railways and in 
restoring harmonious relations everywhere, if it 
is disposed to apply the Golden Rule literally to 
its efforts. 

But this kind of industrial anarchy is by no 
means confined to the railroads. The labor of 
convicts, and prison life in general as it is affected 
by these labor problems is another illustration in 
point. In prisons as elsewhere, "Let Labor be 
Free" is the slogan of the individualist. 

Some time ago I paid a visit to the county jail 



270 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

at Salem, Massachusetts. The situation in these 
county jails at the present day, from the indus- 
trial standpoint, is most instructive. So far as the 
labor of convicts is concerned it serves as an ob- 
ject lesson for the whole country. We are in- 
formed in the Prison Commissioners' Report, that 
at the end of the year 1910 there were one hun- 
dred and thirty-two men and seven women in 
custody in this institution, and that during the 
year the work had been limited in amount, and, 
despite the best efforts of the master, it has not 
been possible to secure more of it. In this, as in 
nearly all county jails since the restrictions were 
put upon prison labor, it has been impossible to 
furnish employment for all the able-bodied pris- 
oners, and many of them go idle. There has been 
no change in the situation since this report was 
written. On the occasion of my visit to the Salem 
House of Correction I found perhaps thirty of the 
inmates at work in a chair shop, and a few en- 
gaged in domestic services. The cells were fairly 
clean, and the food was solid and wholesome — 
pork, beans and heavy stews — a diet such as 
men should be provided with who are vigorously 
and regularly engaged in hard work. I passed 
along the rows of cells and looked in. I saw quite 
a number of men locked in these cells on a broiling 
hot midsummer day, loafing and lounging, and 
lying outstretched on the cots. Posted up on the 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 271 

walls in the corridor were some of the prison regu- 
lations, one of which was to the effect that when 
the inmates were not at work they were to remain 
locked in their cells. Thereupon, at intervals, I put 
a number of questions to the prison official who 
accompanied me. I said to him, "How and where 
do these men get exercise, air, sunshine, and men- 
tal and physical employment enough to keep 
them from going mad?" He replied that it was 
impossible, with the facilities at hand in that jail, 
to provide these essentials to decent living. He 
confessed there was neither yard room outside, 
nor hall room inside, available for exercise of any 
description, and as for the labor conditions, people 
outside the jail walls were responsible for that. 
To tell the truth, he said such work as there was, 
was done at a loafing pace, for fairly brisk work to- 
day would mean a general loaf to-morrow. "Well, 
if these men cannot be provided with work, I 
suppose they are permitted to read. Have they 
any reading matter to occupy their minds?" I 
enquired. "No," he replied. "Some time ago the 
library was destroyed by fire, and no effort has 
been made to replace it." "Are they permitted to 
read newspapers?" "Yes, on Sunday, if they can 
pay for them." "How many of these inmates 
have any money in their pockets when they come 
here?" was my next question. "About twenty 
per cent," was the answer. That is to say, eighty 



272 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

per cent of the inmates never see a paper or a 
book, although they remain in the jail anywhere 
from three months to three years. It may well be 
asked what effect will three years of this kind of 
treatment have on an average human being. 

Next I looked over a railing to the right of a row 
of cells and gazed down into a sort of cock-pit. 
Some half dozen human beings, stark naked, were 
disporting themselves like cattle and squirting 
water and daubing soap over each other. The 
attendant said that was the best way to wash he 
could think of, under the circumstances. 

Turning again to the cells, we noticed a man 
outstretched on one of the cots, with one of his 
feet on the bed clothes. The turnkey motioned to 
him, and the man quickly dropped his foot on the 
floor. At the same time there were other cells in 
which the inmates were imprisoned on that blis- 
tering hot day. They were pacing up and down — 
two or three steps was the limit, and visitors are 
permitted to stare at them through the bars just 
as people do at wild animals in a menagerie. 

I asked the jailer what the penalty was for 
refusing to obey, or for being stubborn in obeying 
these rules. He replied, "Twenty-four hours in 
the solitary on bread and water; if that is not 
sufficient, then a term of ten days of the same 
treatment; if additional 'correction' is necessary, 
we then take him out, give him a good square 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 273 

meal, and put him back again for ten more." 
That, he said, was the limit, according to the 
rules. Naturally one would like to know what 
happens to these unfortunates when their terms 
expire. I was informed they were provided with 
clean clothes, presented with a dollar in money, 
and transportation to a neighboring city. "What 
is the use of coddling them in this way!" said the 
Salem jailer to me. "Clean clothes, one dollar, 
and transportation to Lynn, and inside of a week 
most of them are back again." 

Without any reference to the other features in 
the situation, it can safely be said that the in- 
mates of these prisons are condemned to idleness 
and are kept locked in those cells in stifling 
weather to please organized labor, and their 
friends the politicians. 

This, then, is a picture of prison conditions in 
the county jails in Massachusetts, but it is by no 
means a typical story of the situation as a whole. 
American public opinion, I am well aware, has 
taken hold of this matter and is working it out 
along lines of humanity and social justice. I re- 
ceived a very good idea of what this policy and 
these methods are, and are to be, from visits 
which I also made to the State Prison in Charles- 
town, and to the Reformatory at Concord. No 
one can converse for five minutes with the war- 
dens of these institutions without being impressed 



274 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

with the remarkable social and industrial labors in 
which they are engaged. The splendid work of 
these men, it is true, is only a reflection of up-to- 
date American sentiment and of the modern un- 
derstanding of the term criminality. But these 
wardens are handicapped in their good work by 
the politicians who are at the beck and call of 
organized labor. American public opinion should 
now demand that industrial justice shall be 
meted out alike to the convict and to the free 
man. What right has free labor, or free legisla- 
tures, or organized labor, for that matter, to 
impose restrictions of any kind upon prison labor? 
We are told that prison labor should not be per- 
mitted to compete with free labor. The idea is 
absurd and illogical on its face. A labor unit in 
Roxbury, for example, moves to Lynn, and not a 
word is said about it, but if he happens to move to 
a particular indoor spot in Charlestown, and is 
put to work at his trade, the discovery is at once 
made that he is competing unfairly with the trade 
outside. While proper regulation of the price at 
which prison goods are put on the market is a 
most reasonable proceeding, the liberty and right 
of prison officials to install machinery and to put 
the convicts to work at trades best suited to their 
moral and physical betterment should, I think, be 
recognized by all fair-minded people. In other 
words, let prison labor be free,. 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 275 

The recent strike of the minority of the em- 
ployes of the Boston Elevated Railroad Com- 
pany, is another illustration of the power and 
methods of the labor unions in dealing with indi- 
vidual freedom in industry. On the eve of city 
and state elections an alliance between the poli- 
tician and organized labor was sufficient to over- 
turn and destroy a system of personal and respons- 
ible service, which has stood the test of years, 
and was altogether satisfactory to the commun- 
ity. From beginning to end the affair was simply 
a barefaced scramble to secure the labor vote, 
without the slightest regard to the interests of the 
service, or the community. The principle has 
now been established in Massachusetts that or- 
ganized labor be it never so riotous has constitu- 
tional and civil rights, but that unorganized labor, 
be it never so painstaking and loyal, has no 
standing or weight in the community. Personal 
self-reliance, voluntary industry and ambition, 
and earnestness in work, by which alone indus- 
trial freedom can be secured, have been exchanged 
for the right to organize. The battle for efficiency 
of service on the Boston Elevated, as elsewhere, is 
now to be fought out between regulated capital 
and management on the one hand, and the un- 
regulated and irresponsible labor unions on the 
other. So far as unorganized labor is concerned 
equality of opportunity to work is now a very 
fanciful dream. 



276 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

III 

Finally a general survey of conditions and out- 
look from the standpoint of the individualist 
seems to be called for. 

So far as socialism is concerned, it seems to me 
there is little cause for anxiety. The battle be- 
tween public and private ownership of anything 
or everything must and will be fought out in the 
arena of practical experiment. The democratic 
idea must welcome progress along these lines 
regardless of distinguishing names or parties. 
With this understanding of the evolution of de- 
mocracy in America, both the socialist and the 
individualist may honestly devote themselves, 
heart and soul, to their respective campaigns. 
But when we turn from general ideas of govern- 
ment to the industrial situation in America at the 
present day, the necessity for criticism of a more 
specific nature is at once apparent. 

As I look at the labor situation, then, society is 
just now in a precious pickle. The need of the 
hour is for right-minded people who understand 
the situation to describe it without political or 
sentimental prejudice. The alienation of the em- 
ployer from the employe, one or two phases of 
which I have described in a preceding chapter, 
has borne fruit. Organized labor intentionally, 
and organized management to a great extent, 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 277 

perhaps, by compulsion, had substituted machin- 
ery for personality and these machines are now 
clashing, with results that are known to all men. 
In describing the situation as it should be de- 
cribed it will be necessary to use, as it were, a 
chisel instead of a pen. 

From the point of view of the individualist, then, 
the tendency of modern industrial methods and 
legislation is to reenslave the world. To a great 
extent this conclusion is arrived at from a study of 
the excessive demands and unfair policies of or- 
ganized labor. The first item in this modern 
industrial programme is the surrender of the 
individual workingman. He is called upon to sink 
his industrial personality and to stifle his indus- 
trial conscience in the interests of his union or his 
class. This class doctrine is not hidden under a 
bushel. It is proclaimed at every labor meeting, 
you read it in countless books, it is openly 
preached on street corners and in all public places 
of assembly. Finally the movement receives sup- 
port from an army of well-meaning reformers, the 
victims of imaginative sociology, who are next in 
turn to be doctored personally and professionally 
by some of their own theories. 

The modern industrial policy to which I refer 
says, in effect, "We propose to run the earth, that 
is to say, to name our own terms, to nominate our 
own managers, to regulate our own wages and 



278 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

conditions, to feed, clothe, and carry the masses 
of the people according to the plans and standards 
of the industrial commonwealth which it is our 
purpose ultimately to establish. We have the 
numbers, the votes, the organization, the con- 
centration, in a word, the federation; conse- 
quently, in every sense of the term, the future 
belongs to us." 

Beginning with the worker himself the process 
of enslavement spreads outward. It overshad- 
ows the press, the pulpit, and the platform. The 
limitations it has imposed upon management are 
as glaring as they are dangerous. On the railroads 
the problems of efficiency and safety must now 
pass through the sieve of industrial and political 
expediency. This modern industrial policy says to 
the common people, to the great mass of con- 
sumers, "Be with us or go hungry"; to the trav- 
eler, "Be with us or walk." To the politician as 
well as to the inoffensive voter it offers an un- 
questioning alliance or the private life. To the 
ministers of the Gospel it presents the ultimatum, 
"Consider our terms or consider religion a dead 
issue." It invites the educator to twist his philo- 
sophy and teaching in its direction, or be publicly 
branded as a mere academic or "intellectual." 
To employers, managers, inventors, pioneers, and 
capitalists it holds forth no olive branch or alter- 
native. To all non-affiliated industrial units, such 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 279 

as these, it merely suggests a return to the wood- 
pile. The majority of thinking people may not 
yet be ready to interpret the sounds and the rum- 
bling in the distance in this light, and many of 
those who have the requisite knowledge and in- 
sight are politically and industrially enslaved by 
the difficulties and delicacies of their positions. 
Nevertheless, to all doubters of the reality and 
truth of the picture I have drawn of present con- 
ditions, I have but one word of advice — "cir- 
cumspice." 

But the flight of progress has two wings. I ap- 
proach the subject again with facts of the same 
nature, but from a wider philosophical stand- 
point. In a recent issue of the London "Daily 
Mail," the noted novelist, Mr. Galsworthy, in- 
formed his readers that, in his opinion, "democ- 
racy at present, not only in England but in 
America, offers the spectacle of a man running 
down a road followed at a more and more respect- 
ful distance by his own soul." From the literary 
point of view this is certainly a very attractive 
statement, but it is far from being a correct diag- 
nosis of the situation. On the contrary, as it seems 
to me, democracy in America to-day is making 
heroic efforts to keep up with its soul, and this 
soul, in many directions, is actually getting ahead 
of the game. Digestion and assimilation are 
problems of the social as well as of the individual 



280 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

stomach. In any period of civilization an over- 
dose of soul can anticipate a day of reckoning, 
just as inevitably as an overdose of tyranny or 
corruption. 

Every once in a while society gets an unex- 
pected reminder of these facts. Just at present, 
for example, ideas of humanity and of social jus- 
tice are everywhere clashing with authority. In 
religious and educational matters, in the home 
and in the field of industry, society is now con- 
fronted with the all-important problem of reason- 
able and necessary discipline. The situation, in a 
general way, owes its vitality to the benevolent 
intentions of hosts of earnest and conscientious 
people who are now determined to give poverty 
an uplift and labor its due share of reward. In 
practical everyday operations, however, this kind 
of moral enthusiasm, generous and praiseworthy 
as it surely is, has some of the dangers as well as 
many of the useful properties that are associated 
with steam. And unfortunately, for the proper 
control of this all-comprehensive and irresistible 
moral pressure, civilization in America to-day is 
in a tremendous hurry. Under stress of mental 
and moral overstrain, — and here we have the 
spectacle of the man running down the road try- 
ing to keep pace with his soul, — there seems to 
be no time, no opportunity for the patient con- 
sideration of social and industrial safeguards. In 



LET INDUSTRY BE FREE 281 

fact, the thinking process of Americans in general 
is now being managed by a few specialists just as 
scientifically as the laboring process. The men 
who coin political catch-phrases, introduce mov- 
ing pictures, teach systems of industrial efficiency, 
or dictate opinions and policies to be followed by 
millions of working people, are all trying to make 
it easy to think as well as easy to work. . 

Meantime society itself is in a spendthrift 
mood. It is intoxicated with the wealth of mater- 
ial resources and moral opportunities. Just at 
present it is supremely interested in the laboring 
classes. Every practical manifestation of this 
public sympathy, however, is nowadays quickly 
converted by its recipients into terms of political 
and industrial power, and this power is now 
frankly and openly at odds with authority and 
with personal and property rights of nearly every 
description. 

Now I think it will take but a few words to 
convince open-minded people that the industrial 
chaos at the present day, a partial picture of 
which I have drawn, contains within itself the 
germs of reconciliation and cure. The labor union 
to-day flourishes and commits excesses by virtue 
of power entrusted to it by the spirit of humanity, 
which has become the sign manual of progress of 
every description in the twentieth century. This 
spirit of humanity, or, in other words, this soul of 



282 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INDIVIDUALIST 

democracy which Mr. Galsworthy would have 
Americans look upon as a tail-ender of some kind, 
is actually in alliance with every manifestation or 
echo of righteousness that is able to express itself 
in any way throughout the length and breadth of 
civilized society. The initial outburst of pent-up 
feeling, put in motion by this alliance, has already 
swept scores of social and industrial disgraces 
from the map of society, but in the natural order 
of things there is wholesale demoralization in the 
chaotic yet fundamentally healthy situation that 
remains. The next few years in America are to be 
an era of renaissance. The soul of democracy is 
now beginning to take stock of its handiwork. 
For one thing, it will, in the near future, place 
a restraining hand quietly but firmly on the 
shoulder of organized labor, and in doing so it 
will give millions of other toilers a greater measure 
of social and industrial justice. 

Finally, the writer, whose life-story the reader 
has been following in these pages, has this part- 
ing word to say to his brother individualists — 
everywhere: — 

Launch your vessel, 

And crowd your canvas, 

And, ere it vanishes 

Over the margin, 

After it, follow it, 

Follow the Gleam! 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Accident at Crescent Avenue 
Station, South Boston, 240-44. 

Accidents, on American rail- 
roads in the eighties, 113, 133- 
36; Fagan's study of, 194-98; 
causes of, 226-29, 240-44, 
247-53. 

Alec, boy friend of Fagan, 10-13. 

Authority, conservation of, 157- 
63, 193, 224-29; ideas of hu- 
manity and social justice at 
present clash with, 280, 281. 

Axioms, influence of, 256. 

Bahia, Fagan's sojourn at, 60, 
61, 65-67. 

Baldwin, William H., 104. 

Bible, 36, 38; Fagan introduced 
to, 17; texts, 28, 33, 34, 44. 

Big Mike, 180-83. 

Biological investigations of Dar- 
win and others, 39. 

Boers, the, character and strug- 
gle for independence of, in 1880, 
82-87. 

Boston, Fagan's arrival in, 101, 
102. 

Boston Elevated Railway Com- 
pany, strike of employees of, 
275. 

Brazil, Fagan's sojourn in, 49- 
67. 



Breakers, Conductor, 145-48. 

Broadbent, telegraph clerk, Fa- 
gan makes acquaintance of, 
34-36; conversations of Fagan 
with, 36-42; a social degener- 
ate, 52-54; accused by Fagan 
of robbery, 56-58. 

Brooks, Phillips, 104. 

Brotherhood of Locomotive En- 
gineers, the, 221-24. 

Brown, Mr., minister of the Free 
Kirk, 17, 18. 

Burgers, President, of Transvaal 
Republic, 69. 

Capital, useful and necessary, 

256. 
Carelessness on railroads, 135, 

136. 
Catch-phrases, influence of, 256, 

261, 262. 
Character, whether to be consid- 
ered scientific or religious, 40, 

41. 
Character-building, 27-31. 
Class spirit in school, 23-25. 
Colenso, Bishop, 71. 
Concord Reformatory, 273. 
Conservation of authority, 157- 

63, 193, 224-29. 
Correct living, problems of, 

36, 



286 



INDEX 



Dan, railroad hand, 153-57, 159, 

160. 
Darwin, Charles, 38, 39. 
Delvy, Mr., section foreman, 

151. 
Democracy of the present day, 

defined by Galsworthy and by 

Fagan, 279, 280. 
Diamond Fields of South Africa, 

the, 96-100. 

East Deerfield, position secured 
by Fagan at, 105; Fagan's 
place of occupation at, 106, 
107; Fagan's companions and 
fellow workers at, 107-12; 
Fagan's business experience at, 
112-17, 123, 124; Fagan's 
reading while at, 117-23. 

Eliot, President C. W., Fagan's 
study of, 214, 216-19; quoted 
on industrial freedom, 267. 

Enginemen, railroad, demands of, 
221-39. 

Equality of opportunity, 261-75. 

Fagan, J. O., the family stock of, 
from the Island of Skye, 2; 
progenitors of, in India, 2, 3; 
his father a survivor of the In- 
dian Mutiny, 3; birth, 3; early 
home, 3-5; the wilderness 
stage of his boyhood, 5-8; and 
the adventure of the rabbit- 
warren, 9-15; the first emer- 
gence of his personality, 12, 
15; beginning of his self-asser- 
tion, 16, 17; his religious con- 



dition in childhood, 17-19, 22; 
at school in Fortrose academy, 
19-22; at school at Manchester, 
22-25, how he came to leave 
England, 25; intellectual and 
religious condition of, at this 
time, 25; interview with cou- 
sin, 26-28; his understanding 
of the text "Keep yourself un- 
spotted from the world," 28- 
31; adventure at Lisbon, 29- 
31; his condition on leaving 
Lisbon, 32-34; makes acquain- 
tance with Broadbent, 34-36; 
first indications of a definite 
philosophy, 36; conversations 
of, with Broadbent, 36-42; 
benefit derived from Broad- 
bent by, 37-39, 42; aspect of 
the past to, 42, 43; studies 
Spanish, 42, 44; accepts invi- 
tation of Spanish merchant to 
go to Rosario, 43-49; goes to 
Santos, 49; his sojourn in Bra- 
zil, 49-67; shocked at social 
conditions in Brazil, 50-55; 
studies languages, 55, 56, 73; 
has yellow fever, 57, 58; his 
early experience of women, 63, 
64; incident at Bahia, 64-67; 
his aim and intentions in going 
to South Africa, 68; conditions 
in South Africa at time of his 
sojourn in, 68-70; meets Rider 
Haggard, 70; meets Bishop Co- 
lenso, 71; his attitude toward 
society, 71, 102; his religious 
views changing, 72; not influ- 



INDEX 



287 



enced by considerations of 
material interests, 72; his 
initiation among scenes and 
peoples of South Africa, 72- 
95; his account of a hunting 
expedition, 77-82; on the Boer 
character, 82-87; on the Kaf- 
firs, 88-93; his thoughts turned 
toward the United States, 94, 
95; at the South African Dia- 
mond Fields, 98-100; leaves 
South Africa, 100; value of his 
life in South Africa, 101; ar- 
rives in Boston, 101, 102; his 
view of people and conditions 
in New England, 102-4; se- 
cures position in Hancock, 
N. H., and then in East Deer- 
field, Mass., 105; his place of 
occupation at East Deerfield, 
106, 107; his companions and 
fellow workers at East Deer- 
field, 107-12; on railroad con- 
ditions in early eighties, 112- 
17; the reading stage of his life 
and his study of the diction- 
ary, 117-23; his duties at East 
Deerfield, 123, 124; takes a va- 
cation, 124; accepts position 
in interlocking tower in West 
Cambridge, 127; his duties in 
this position, 128-30, 140-44; 
mind study of, 165-69; his 
literary efforts, 183-88, 192; 
visits Samuel Jones, Mayor of 
Toledo, 189-92; reports on 
coal strike for the "Boston 
Journal," 192-94; undertakes 



to study the accident situation 
on railroads, 194, 195; his mar- 
ried life, 196; his attempts to 
excite individual interest in 
subject of accidents, 196; let- 
ter of Edgar J. Rich to, 197; 
his "The Confessions of a Rail- 
road Signalman," 197, 198; 
his study of the "Three Pre- 
sidents," 199-219. 

Fear, 33, 34. 

Field, F. A., 110-12, 114, 119. 

Fillimore, an acquaintance of 
Fagan in South America, 53- 
55. 

Fitzgerald, Mayor John F., 
quoted on railroad accident at 
South Boston, 241, 242; letter 
of, on disorderly conduct of 
boys, 247, 248. 

Fortrose, 3, 4, 19. 

Galsworthy, John, quoted, 279. 

Generalities, 18, 25, 26, 28-31, 33. 

Gold Fields of South Africa, the, 
96, 97. 

Graft on the railroads, 146. 

Grand Trunk Railroad, action of 
the Brotherhood of Locomo- 
tive Engineers on entrance of, 
into New England, 223, 224. 

Greek and Latin, value set upon, 
by Fagan, 118, 119. 

Grumpy, of South Africa, 75-77. 

Haggard, Rider, 70. 
Hancock, N. H., position secured 
by Fagan at, 105. 



288 



INDEX 



Harkins, railroad hand, 153. 
Hartwell, Mr., 161-63, 175, 176. 
Henry, acquaintance of Fagan at 

East Deerfield, 108, 109. 
Hobbs, F. S., 241. 
Humanity, prevalent spirit of, 

280-82. 

Impressionist, the, portraits of, 

201, 202, 210, 214-16. 
Individualism, of the author's 

boyhood, 6; the doctrine of, 

255. 
Individualist, the, and society, 1. 
Industrial anarchy, threatened, 

267-69. 
Industrial methods, modern, the 

tendency of, to reenslave the 

world, 277-79. 
Industry should be free, 255-82. 

Jails, conditions in, 269-74. 
Jake, acquaintance of Fagan at 

East Deerfield, 109. 
James, Mr., prospector in South 

Africa, 96, 97. 
John, railroad hand, 152. 
Jones, Samuel, 189-92. 

Kaffirs, the, 88-93. 

Kimberley, 98-100. 

Kruger, Paul, 69. 

Kruttschnitt, Mr., vice-president 
of the Southern Pacific Rail- 
road, 196. 

Labor, movement to organize, in 
the eighties, 137-40. 



Labor leaders, irresponsible 
power of, 230, 231. 

Labor situation, at present, 276. 

Labor unions, the power of, in 
the railroads, 221-39; enslave- 
ment of labor to will of, 263- 
67; bad tendencies of, 267-79; 
flourish through power en- 
trusted to them by prevalent 
spirit of humanity, 281. 

Latin, value set upon, by Fagan, 
118, 119. 

Lisbon, 29-31. 

Love, 34. 

Lucy, railroad hand, 152, 153. 

McTavish, schoolmaster, 18-21. 
Manchester, school at, 22. 
Mat, railroad hand, 152. 
Mellen, President, Fagan's study 
of, 199-203, 215. 

New England in the eighties, 96- 
127. 

"Ohio Journal of Commerce," 
article in, quoted, 264-66. 

Oklahoma and the railroads, 258, 
259. 

Opportunity, equality of, 261- 
75. 

Overtime payment, 130-32. 

"Paper," the, 134. 

Park, W. L., 268. 

Parks, Mr., conductor, 132, 133. 

Pass, the, 171. 

Peixoto, 58-62, 93. 



INDEX 



289 



Personal conduct, philosophy of, 
in its relation to life in general, 
36. 

Personal elements, elimination of 
in working relationships in 
America, 170-74. 

Politics and railroads, 239-44. 

Prayer, 18, 33. 

Prinsloo, 83-87. 

Prison life, as affected by labor 
problems, 269-74. 

Public opinion, politically influ- 
enced, 240, 243. 

Public utility, an overworked 
catch-phrase, 257, 259. 

Railroads, man's inhumanity to 
man seen in conditions of, 112- 
16; considered semi-disreput- 
able business in early eighties, 
114; men and conditions on, 
128-63; organization of work- 
ers on, 137-40; switch tower 
duties on, 140-44; workers on, 
at West Cambridge, 144-57; 
graft on, 146-48; changes in, 
in the nineties, 169; the giving 
way of the personal relations 
between employer and em- 
ployed on, 170-83; increase of 
detail in administration of, 
175-79; the riddle of the, 220- 
54; the storm centre of politi- 
cal and industrial activity, 
220; a field for experiments, 
220, 221; the power of the la- 
bor union in, 221-39; and poli- 
tics, 239-44; track- work on, 



243-47; trespassing on prop- 
erty of, 247-53; Federal own- 
ership of, may be result of 
present conditions, 253, 254; 
and Oklahoma, 258, 259; in- 
dustrial anarchy threatened 
in, 267-69. 

"Railway Age Gazette," quoted 
on railway accidents, 226-29. ; 

Religion, what it meant to Fagan 
as a child, 17-19, 22; Fagan's, 
as affected by the philosophy 
of Peixoto, 60; Fagan's, chang- 
ing, 72; Fagan's, in the eighties 
and at present, 105; of Shake- 
speare, 121-23. 

Responsibility, avoidance of, by 
labor unions and their leaders, 
230-33. 

Rich, Edgar J., letter of, to Fa- 
gan, 197. 

Riddle of the Railroads, the, 
220-54. 

Roosevelt, Theodore, on the con- 
servation of authority, 157- 
59; Fagan's study of, 200, 202- 
15; quoted, 260, 261. 

Rosario, 43-49. 

Russell, Bull Run, 95. 

Salem County Jail and House of 
Correction, conditions in, 269 
73. 

Sampson, railroad hand, 153. 

Santos, Fagan's sojourn at, 49-60. 

School life, of Fagan, 19-25. 

Scientific engineer, the, and sci- 
entific management, 232-39. 



290 



INDEX 



Section foreman, the, 243-45. 

Section-hands, 245, 246. 

Seward, Henry W., 240. 

Shakespeare, William, Fagan's 
delight in and study of, 121- 
23, 185, 186. 

Shepstone, Sir Theophilus, 69. 

Sixteen-Hour Law, the, 172. 

Smith, E. A., 124, 125, 130. 

Social responsibility, lack of, in 
railroads, in early eighties, 
112-14. 

Socialism, 276. 

South Africa, Fagan's aim and 
intentions in going to, 68; con- 
ditions in, at the time of Fa- 
gan's sojourn in, 68-70; Fa- 
gan's initiation among scenes 
and people of, 72-95; the gold 
fields of, 96, 97; the Diamond 
Fields of, 98-100. 

South America, Fagan prepares 
to leave England for, 25. 

Special privileges, 259. 

State Prison in Charlestown, 273. 

Stone, Chief, of the Brotherhood 
of Locomotive Engineers, quot- 
ed, 221, 222. 

Styles, schoolmaster, 22, 23. 

Superintendent, railroad, meth- 
ods and duties of, 177. 

Telegraph service of railroads, 
in the eighties, 114-17, 130, 
131. 

Texts, Biblical, 28, 33, 34, 44. 

" The Tempest," Fagan's study 
of, 123, 185, 186. 



Three Presidents, Fagan's study 

of, 199-219. 
Tower men, condition of, in the 

eighties, 128-32, 140-44. 
Tracers, 107. 
Track-walkers, 246. 
Track-workers, 243-47. 
Train-dispatcher, the, 177. 
Transvaal Republic, conditions 

in, at time of Fagan's sojourn 

in, 68-70. 
Trespassing on railroad property, 

247-53. 
Turner, E. K., 125-27, 134, 135. 
Type, the word, 108. 

Unions. See Labor unions. 

Water, the term as applied to rail- 
roads or railroad stock, 259-61. 

West Cambridge, Fagan accepts 
position in interlocking tower 
at, 127; Fagan's duties in posi- 
tion at, 128-30, 140-44; rail- 
road workers at, 144-57. 

Will-power, increase of strength 
of muscle due to, 15, 16. 

Wolseley, Sir Garnet, 88, 92. 

Women, Fagan's early experience 
of, 29-31, 63-67. 

Workingmen, movement toward 
the organization of, on the 
railroads, 137-40; at West 
Cambridge on the Fitchburg 
Railroad, 144-57. See Labor 



Yankee, the, 107-110. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



NCV !3 1912 



